


Separation Anxiety

by Ghostbunne



Category: MLAndersen0
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Best Friends, Brotherly Bonding, Brothers, Canon Typical Descriptions of Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Death Threats, Friendship, Gen, Habit Typical Descriptions of Gore, Implied/Referenced Death in Childbirth, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Medicine, Michael and Patrick Become Seperated, Minor Violence, Panic Attacks, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Acceptance, Self-Discovery, Self-Doubt, Self-Worth Issues, Sharing a Body, Shaun is an Asshole Sometimes, Social Anxiety, Threats, Threats of Violence, Trans Michael, described gore, they are friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 36,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27395479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostbunne/pseuds/Ghostbunne
Summary: Patrick thinks they are dying. He couldn't be more wrong.When Patrick and Michael become separated with Patrick gaining his own body he gets a new perspective on his life and goals, and a new lease on how he lives his life.Meanwhile, Michael is struggling to cope with the sudden change, scared that everything could only go wrong with their new situation.
Relationships: Michael Andersen & Patrick Andersen, Michael Andersen & Shaun Andersen, Michael Andersen & Stormy
Comments: 15
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

It was supposed to be routine. Go to Habit, sneak around, get some information on him. Patrick didn’t expect to be caught. He didn’t expect to get stabbed with the god killer either. He wasn’t supposed to be dying, not this early on. Not now. He had managed to escape, getting back to the small apartment Michael had managed to acquire. He sat on the floor now, back pressed against the door, breathing heavily. He could feel blood coming out of his side, warm and wet. His breathing hitched, and he looked down, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry Michael I- This wasn’t meant to happen,” Patrick said, his voice shaking, Everything hurt. “It wasn’t meant to be this soon- it wasn’t meant to be at all.”

His vision was fading, dark spots clouding his eyes. The pain was drifting away, he could tell he was dying. His head throbbed. Michael spoke up from within their mind, his voice quiet. He was in pain too. ‘It’s okay. It’ll be okay we won’t- I believe in you Patrick you won’t- you won’t let us die, right?’

‘Right Patrick?’ Patrick didn’t answer. His head lolled to the side and everything began to fade faster. Michael’s internal voice sounded cloudy and distant. Patrick couldn’t understand what he was saying. He breathed one last time, and then everything went black.

Patrick woke up in the bathtub of the apartment, his entire body ached. His head throbbed, and his throat was dry. “Fuck. We’re not dead… that’s new.”

No response from Michael. Probably still incapacitated in some way. Patrick sighed. He clambered up, almost pulling down the shower curtain in the process. His nose was bleeding, and it was bad enough that it smeared across his lower face. He stumbled to the sink, splashing water on it. He sighed, staring at the drain as he wiped it off. He paused when he heard a crash in the other room, his back straightening. He glanced in the mirror, doing a double-take. That wasn’t his normal face. It wasn’t Michael’s face. He brought a hand up, slow, quiet, tracing along with his features. He heard another crash. There was time to worry about who’s body he was in later. He had to investigate who else was in Michael’s apartment.

He stepped down the hall, quiet. His hand opened and closed, itching for some sort of weapon to defend himself with. He continued to walk, slow and quiet until he reached the main room. The lights were off and it was dark. He could see someone standing in the middle of the room, their breathing was fast and shallow. Whoever they were- they were having a panic attack. Patrick stepped forward, meaning to be quiet. Instead, he slipped on something on the floor, crashing to the ground. The person whipped around, frantic, eyes searching. Patrick groaned as the person backed to the door, hands reaching for the light switch. The lights flicked on, and Patrick was briefly blinded.

“Who the- who the fuck are you?” Michael said, staring at Patrick with wide eyes. He shook, and Patrick could see he was still hurt, hand at his side. “How did you- why the fuck are you in my apartment?”

“Michael it’s me,” Patrick said, slowly pushing himself up. He stood up again, moving closer. Michael flinched back. “It’s me, Patrick.”

“I don’t- What?” Michael said quietly, his shoulders sinking. “I don’t… I don’t understand- Patrick why- Why aren’t you- You know. In my head.”

“I don’t know.” Patrick sighed. He stepped closer to Michael, who didn’t flinch away now. “Something feels wrong and I don’t like it. Hopefully, when I get back to you we can figure out who this is- They haven’t spoken up yet which is strange.”

Normally this should’ve been easy. Just jump back to Michael as his host, but when Patrick opened his eyes nothing had changed. “Funny.”

“What’s funny Patrick?” Michael asked, confused and clearly still on edge and panicking. His breath was still hitching every few seconds. “Is everything alright?”

“Let’s take care of calming you down first,” Patrick said with a small smile. “You’re panicking like a rabbit that mistook a cardinal for a hawk. You get yourself some water and I’ll find your meds, I don’t think you’ve taken them yet. Then we can take care of your injuries.”

“Ok that- that sounds good,” Michael said quietly, sighing. They made their way to the small kitchen. Patrick sifted through the cupboard, pulling out three small bottles and dumping the necessary doses on the counter. Meanwhile, Michael had already drunk a glass and a half of water. 

“Do you need me to run you through a breathing exercise?” Patrick asked, handing the pills to Michael who quietly nodded. Patrick guided him over to the small table, sitting down across from him before launching into a breathing exercise, stopping only when Michael’s own breathing had regulated and the wild, panicked look had disappeared from his eyes. “Did you eat yet?”

“We- I had a sandwich before we went over there. That was… 7:00 pm and it- it’s 6:00 am now.” Michael answered, doing the math in his mind. “So that’s eleven hours?”

“Thirteen. I think you still have those toaster waffles in the freezer. I’ll make some up.” Patrick said. He stood up, striding to the freezer. He opened it up, pulling out the box of waffles and throwing two in the toaster. He pressed it down, grabbing a plate from the cupboard. He took the two waffles and put them on the plate, handing them to Michael. “There you are. Now, when you’re done I’ll look at your injuries. Are you still bleeding or does it just hurt?”

“It just hurts,” Michael answered quietly, eating his food. “Like… it just aches. Constantly. Do we still have Advil?”

“We ran out last week when you had that headache. I’ll grab some more when I get the chance.” Patrick sighed, cursing the fact that he had pushed off a trip to the pharmacy for painkillers, especially before going on a trip to Habits. Michael nodded quietly, finishing his food. “Alright, I’ll grab the first aid kit and see what we can do.”

Patrick did as he said he would, finding the first aid kit and returning. He opened it up, pulling out the antiseptic and some cotton balls. Michael lifted his shirt, revealing the wound. “It’s going to fucking hurt isn’t it?”

“Probably, and right now I can’t stop that pain.” Patrick sighed. He got to work cleaning the area. Michael hissed quietly, and Patrick continued. It had to be done. It would be a lot worse off if the wound got infected. When Patrick had actually seen the wound he was surprised. There wasn’t a wound at all. A thick scar was instead under all the blood. “Strange.”

“What?” Michael asked. “Is something wrong?”

“No just- looks like we won’t have to worry about stitches. It’s scarred up.” Patrick answered, sitting back. Michael looked at him with surprise, sitting back as well. “That’s good. Now- let’s try getting back together, shall we?”

Michael nodded and Patrick focused, trying to jump back. It didn’t work again. He kept trying, stopping with a frustrated sigh after five minutes.”It isn’t working.”

“I know,” Patrick said quietly. “And I’m getting worried about it. I think- I think we should probably try again later. I’ll try and contact this host in the meantime.”

“Ok,” Michael said quietly. He grew silent for a moment. “Patrick, what day is it?”

“Hm, I don’t know off the top of my head. Let me check.” Patrick answered. He walked into the living room, checking the calendar. He smiled, turning and shouting back to the kitchen. “January 16th. It’s your birthday tomorrow.”

“Shit!” Michael shouted. He scrambled out of the kitchen, grabbing Patrick’s shoulders. “Patrick- Shaun’s s’posed to be coming over today. We need to- I forgot to tidy up. He’s going to- fuck! How do I- what do I tell him about- About this!”

Michael gestured wildly at Patrick, starting to panic again. Patrick put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. “Calm down, breathe. We can tidy up and we can figure something out. This is the monthly visit, correct?”

“Yeah, once a month,” Michael said quietly. “Always once a month at- at noon.”

“Then we have five and a half hours to sort all of this out. Everything will be fine.” Patrick said. He could tell Michael was still frantic, but he was calm enough to be sensible. That was good. “I can tidy up any blood, you can start sorting out the kitchen. At least an hour before noon we’ll make sure to talk about what to do about this... separation. See what can be figured out, alright?”

Michael nodded, and the two of them set off to work, tidying the entire apartment. It was spotless then, and Michael was happy with it, certain Shaun wouldn’t badger him about too much now. They sat on the couch, trying to figure out exactly what was going on. Patrick was becoming more and more concerned as the time passed and no voice spoke up in the back of his mind. It never took this long. It made him antsy. They shouldn’t be separate like this. It felt wrong. Everything felt wrong, like a quiet buzz in the background of everything screaming that something was deeply, deeply wrong.

It was eleven now. Patrick sighed quietly. He was glad he still had his pocket watch, that it hadn’t gotten lost in the chaos. He wrapped and unwrapped the chain around his hand, thinking quietly. To him, it was becoming clearer that he and Michael would not be back together by noon. He had to come up with a solution for the two of them. His train of thought came to a screeching halt when they heard a loud knock on the door.

“He’s early,” Patrick said in a whisper. His eyes narrowed. “Listen, I’ll stay in the bedroom while he’s here, you just try to keep him away. Don’t be obvious.”

‘Ok, got it.” Michael responded quietly. Patrick strode to the bedroom, shutting the door behind himself. Meanwhile, Michael made his way to the apartment’s door, opening it with a forced smile. “Hey Shaun, how’re you doing?”

“Good, good. How’ve you been holding up Michael?” Shaun asked, looking around, eyes analyzing. Michael knew he was looking for an excuse. He always did this, tried to find something that would confirm in his mind that Michael wasn’t capable of maintaining himself. That he was still a mess. That he wasn’t doing better than Shaun was. “Apartment looks nice. Did you get some new… wall stuff?”

“Uh, yeah, Do you like it?” Michael asked, wringing his hands nervously. He stared at the wall hanging. It was a simple poster of the solar system. Something he had found nice and neat. Something he liked. “I thought- I thought it was neat.”

“It’s good. It’s alright.” Shaun said with a hint of a frown on his face. “Have you eaten today? Taken your meds?”

“Yep. Waffles for breakfast and I took my meds then.” Michael said with a small sigh. “Can you not- interrogate me? Just- just visit with me man. Tell me how you’ve been.”

“I’ve been good,” Shaun replied curtly. “You know how it is. Just… living life. Doing what I can to manage.”

Yeah, yeah I get that man.” Michael sighed. “Do you want some soda or something?” 

“Sure thing,” Shaun said, sitting down on Michael’s couch. Michael went to the fridge, pulling out some no-name orange soda. One for him, one for Shaun. He handed the can to his brother, sitting down next to him. “So, what have you been up to?”

“Just… work and stuff,” Michael answered. “Not much else to do these days. I mean, my birthday is tomorrow but that’s about it.”

“Oh, yeah I uh- I brought you something,” Shaun said. He pulled a small thing out of his pocket, wrapped messily. He handed it to Michael. Michael opened it quietly. A fifty dollar visa card was inside. “I know it isn’t much and it’s impersonal as fuck but. It’s for you.”

“Thanks, Shaun,” Michael said with a smile, a genuine one. “It’s good. Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Shaun checked his watch, sighing. “I’ve got to head out. This has been a nice visit- I’ll see you next month Michael.”

“See you next month, Shaun.” Michael stood up, walking to the door and opening it for his brother. Just as he was about to cross the threshold, a loud crash was heard from the bedroom. Michael jumped. Shaun paused, stepping back into the apartment. “Something must’ve fallen over…”

“I’ll check it out. In case someone broke in.” Shaun said, getting that look in his eye that meant he wouldn’t stand down. Michael sighed, hoping that Patrick was hidden. “I don’t want to leave and find out you got murdered or something.”

They walked down the small hall, and Shaun quickly opened the bedroom door. Some books had fallen off of Michael’s shelf. Patrick was nowhere to be seen. Shaun narrowed his eyes, looking around briefly. Finally, Shaun sighed and returned to the wide-open front door.

“See you later dude,” Shaun said, finally leaving with a wave. Michael waved back with a small smile, closing the door. He jumped when he discovered Patrick had been standing behind the open door. 

“What the fuck!” He hissed, surprised. Patrick laughed. Stepping out. “What were you doing back there!”

“Hiding, obviously,” Patrick answered with a wave of his hand. “Had to teleport somewhere from that room. Every other door was open or I’d make too much noise.”

“Ok. Ok.” Michael sighed. It was noon now. “Fuck. That was- what would we have even done if he had seen you?”

“Told him I was your new brother.” Patrick joked, leaning against the wall. He sighed, his expression faltering. “I’m going to be honest Michael, I’m beginning to grow worried. Frightened even.”

“What? What do you mean?” Michael asked, confused. “What are you scared about?”

“I’m beginning to think this might- this body might not have someone else in it,” Patrick answered, his lips drawn into a tight line. “No one has spoken up and it shouldn’t be taking this long.”

“What would that mean?” Michael asked, growing worried himself. “They're not being anyone else?”

“Well, I think it would mean-” Patrick sighed, calculating in his mind one last time. “I think I’m the host of this body. I think it is mine and mine alone.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Patrick deal with their situation. Stormy pays a visit.

“I don’t understand- I thought- You said you didn’t have your own body,” Michael said, his eyes going wide. He shook his head, clearly thinking. “You said you didn’t.”

“I know- and I didn’t then,” Patrick answered with a sigh, pacing across the room. “But- it seems I do now. Which is concerning and confusing at best.”

“I- What do we do now?” Michael asked, wringing his hands together nervously. “What does this mean I mean- what are we supposed to do about it? Are you- are you just going to leave now?”

“No, I’m not just leaving.” Patrick sighed. “Even if it’s not physical- I get the feeling we’re still bound together. Besides, after everything, I wouldn’t just go. There’s so much still to do, and abandoning you wouldn’t help you. Wouldn’t help me either.”

“Ok. Ok.” Michael said. He furrowed his brow and drew his legs up in front of him, thinking. He tapped his fingers on his knees, drumming out a simple beat, trying to focus. “I- What do you mean bound together?”

“That’s a complicated question that I can’t exactly answer,” Patrick said, sitting down next to Michael again. “But as soon as I can I will.”

“Alright,” Michael said, glancing away. He didn’t like that answer. It wasn’t satisfying to him. It felt avoidant as if he did know something he just didn’t want to share it. Michael didn’t push the question further despite his minor annoyance. He was just glad Patrick couldn’t read his thoughts right now. He didn’t feel like explaining his thought process. “What should we do about this?”

“The first step would be figuring out what Habit did, I think,” Patrick answered. He sighed. “I can handle that on my own. You don’t need to get hurt again.”

“Alright, that’s fair,” Michal said. His mind was growing fuzzy. He looked at Patrick with a tilt of his head, He was getting a bit delirious, to the point he didn’t even notice. Michael laughed. “It’s funny… you look a lot like me but- but still different a little bit. I just noticed that. I- I don’t know I didn’t expect that.”

“Oh? I do?” Patrick said, surprised. He hadn’t taken the time to look in a mirror. Michael nodded in response, blinking rapidly very suddenly. Michael moved to stand up, but his legs didn’t support him. Patrick’s eyes widened, and he darted forward, catching Michael before he smacked into the ground. “Holy shit, what happened?”

Michael blinked at him, shrugging sluggishly. “I don’t know I just… felt really tired all of a sudden.”

Patrick helped him to his feet, supporting him when Michael wavered again. He looked pale, and Patrick furrowed his brow. “Low blood sugar maybe.”

“W- Why would I have low blood sugar?” Michael asked, genuinely confused, his mind cloudy. “I mean- It doesn’t make sense.”

“You lost quite a bit of blood today, and then you haven’t really gotten a break. Just- Sit down and I’ll grab you some stuff to eat.” Patrick sighed. He helped Michael to a chair at the table, which he slumped into quietly. It was clear he was exhausted. Patrick could count on one hand the hours the man had slept before this had happened. Partially his own fault, waking up the body so early to go out. Patrick rifled through the fridge, locating a carton of lemonade, a banana, and a pudding cup. It would do enough. He set them down on the table.

“Thanks,” Michael said quietly, his voice weak. “I think I’m gonna sleep after this I think. Just… get some rest. I’m beyond fucking tired.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Patrick sighed. He sat down across from Michael. “Sleep would be good for you, you didn’t get much last night.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Micheal laughed with a small grin, making it clear he was joking around. “I mean, I didn’t decide to get up this morning and go to a murderer’s house to snoop around.”

“At least we got something out of it,” Patrick said with a smile. “Now we know Habit’s got a new toy.”

\------------------------------

Micheal woke up with a yawn, stretching his back until his spine made a satisfying pop. He cracked his knuckles, rolling up and out of his bed. He sighed and frowned when he remembered what had happened the day prior. He wrung his hands, nervous. He didn’t know what to do. He sighed moving on. He had to get ready for the day. He had work. He wondered what Patrick would occupy himself with. It would probably be good to ask. Michael continued to get ready, stepping out into the kitchen. He pulled his meds from the cupboard, taking the appropriate amount before pouring himself a bowl of cereal. Patrick was nowhere to be seen as of yet. Michael sighed. Everything felt strange. The other man’s presence had been a constant in his head for years. Without him, it felt almost hollow. He jumped slightly when he heard the window in the main room slam shut, Patrick striding in moments later.

“Where were you?” Michael asked, his mind running, worried. He always tended to worry more than he ought to. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” Patrick asked, sitting down across from Michael and crossing his legs. “Just took a trip up the fire escape. I wanted to explore a little. Stretch my legs, since I have some to myself to stretch.”

“Yeah, fair enough,” Michael said with a small laugh, continuing to eat. Patrick stood up with a small bounce, making his way to the fridge. “Some of the stuff in there’s gone bad. I just haven’t been motivated to clean it out. Sorry.”

“Hey, I get it. I’ve been in your head for over a decade, I know from a better perspective what it’s like even if I don’t know entirely.” Patrick said. “You focus on what you need to do. I’ll clean out the fridge today.”

“Thanks, Patrick,” Michael said with a small smile. He finished eating, washing his bowl in the sink as Patrick began to eat his own meal. “I thought you told me you didn’t need to eat.”

“I didn’t think I did,” Patrick answered with a small sigh. “But I felt hungry and I’d rather not test the idea.”

“That makes sense,” Micheal mumbled, moving around the kitchen and making sure everything was in place. Once he was certain he clapped his hands together, turning to check the clock. “Alright. I’m off to work now. Uh- You know where we keep the money if we need anything and if you need to go somewhere you know where my bike is. Uh- I’ll be back around 5:00, you- you know the drill by now.”

“That I do. You get to work and don’t worry about me, I’ll be here when you get back.” Patrick said with a small laugh. “Don’t be late, it’s a five-minute walk and you’ve got twenty.”

Michael went out the door with a small wave, Sighing as he began his trek to work. He didn’t know why he was so worried, Patrick wouldn’t go back on his word and just leave. Michael was still concerned. He didn’t know what he’d do with such a major constant being removed from his life. He decided not to dwell on it. He had his job to focus on, he couldn’t let himself get distracted and potentially fired.

\-------------------------

Patrick had finished cleaning out the fridge in the apartment. He sighed, sitting back on the couch with his legs crossed on a stool. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He tapped a rhythm out on his leg, thinking. He could take stock of the kitchen, get anything they needed. He’d likely need to get some clothes for himself as well as anything else he would need as a now separate person. He rifled around, Finding an empty notepad. He began making a list of what he thought he would need for himself, and what he thought both of them would need. He took the list, tucking it into his pocket. 

He began making sure he was presentable, that his clothes and hair didn’t have blood in them mostly. Once he was satisfied he moved along, grabbing the bike from the closet by the door. He paused, looking to the top shelf. A box sat there, labelled ‘Andersen Family Documents’. Shaun had already taken anything he wanted from it, birth certificates, Photos, it had been easy considering everything that he may need was labelled with him. Patrick paused, pulling the box down. He took it, walking to the hall closet. He opened it up, making his way to the back of it. He tucked the box in the back, stacking blankets around and on top of it. Anything that was left in there was unimportant, a record of a time better forgotten. At least here it would give them more space in the front closet. He stepped back, closing it again. He made his way back to the front, taking the set of spare keys and the bicycle. He made his way through the apartment complex, making it down to the street without interruption. He hopped on the bicycle, making his way to the store. 

He wasn’t long. He’d make it back before Michael even got off work, let alone before he got back to the apartment. He went up the elevator, walking down the hall. He stopped dead when he rounded the corner. Stormy stood there, knocking on the door. Patrick attempted to back up, go back down the hall and up the fire escape, but she quickly spotted him. She frowned, quickly coming to the conclusion Patrick was in control, which wasn’t correct at all. Patrick checked his watch. Twenty minutes at least until Michael got back. He took a deep breath, put on a smile, and walked down the hall towards her.

“Stormy! Hi!” He said. When he was within range she slapped him straight across the face. It stung, and admittedly he deserved that. He stepped back, putting his hand to his face.

“Oh, shit- I just hurt Michael didn’t I?” She said, stepping back. She sighed, crossing her arms and glaring at Patrick. “Can I talk to him? I want to see my friend.”

“You’ll have to give it 15 minutes,” Patrick said, opening the door to the apartment. He set the groceries down on the floor. He put the bike back in its place, turning to stormy. “He’s at work, you can make yourself at home in the meantime. I’ll be in the kitchen putting groceries away. Bye.”

“Wait- what do you mean he’s at work,” Stormy asked, clearly suspicious. “How can you be here if he’s at work?”

“You know, I don’t quite know the answer to how but-” He laughed, moving towards the kitchen, “By he’s at work I mean he’s at work. Secretary at that… officey place down the street, you know that. He’s done well getting to his shifts.”

Stormy just stared at him, and he used the opportunity to walk away. After all, he had things to put away. Didn’t want any of it to spoil. He set the bag on the counter, rolling up his sleeves. He started putting stuff away, humming a tune as he stuck cans into cupboards and vegetables and fruit into the fridge. He paused when he heard the door open. 

“Paaaaaaaaaaaa Hi Stormy!” Micheal asked. “Uh- how did you uh- get into my apartment?”

“Michael what the fuck.” Stormy hissed. “What the fuck- how the fuck- How did Patrick let me in if you just- Is this that- that teleporting thing again?”

“No it’s- it’s complicated- uh-” Michael paused and stuttered. Stormy was his closest friend, and yet his nerves still took over. Patrick finished what he was doing, stepping back into the main room. “Patrick- please help me explain.”

“What the fuck…” Stormy whispered, glancing between the two of them. “When did you get a twin?..”

“Not my twin- just- just Patrick,” Michael said nervously.

“Something happened- we’re not quite sure what but… at the current moment we are separate,” Patrick added. Michael sighed, glad he was taking over the explanation. “I’m figuring it out though. It’ll be something useful to know.”

“So when are you leaving?” Stormy asked, her arms crossed, glare up again. “If you’re separate you can leave Michael alone, right?”

“I’m not leaving.” Patrick sighed. 

“I don’t really want him to go yet? I mean- if he goes at all I just- I don’t want it to be sudden I’ve never been good at adapting to big change.” Michael said, tapping his foot. “I just- I don’t want him to go.”

“Alright- I- I can understand,” Stormy said quietly. “I don’t necessarily like that choice but- I can understand why you’d make it.”

“Thanks, Stormy.” Michael smiled, moving across the room to her. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into a side hug. “You’re my best friend. I appreciate you.”

“I appreciate you too Mikey, I just want you to be safe man,” Stormy said, smiling herself. They pulled apart, and Stormy sighed. “I came here to check up on you, how’re you doing?”

“Alright, all things considered, I mean- I got stabbed but- I’m alright!” He said with a nervous laugh. Her eyes went wide at him. “It’s all good! It’s all better and- healed now.”

“Michael- what happened?” She asked, her tone full of worry.

“That’s a long story. Could you- sit down?” She nodded, and they sat on the couch together. “Patrick, could you make some tea please?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Events in the past are revealed. Secrets are pulled into the light. Michael takes a stand.

Michael sat next to Stormy on the couch, breathing in and out, quiet, careful. He slowly began to explain everything he knew, Patrick chiming in wherever Michael’s own recollection failed.

It was chilly out. Patrick stepped up to the door of a mostly empty home. The people who had lived there once were long gone. Likely dead. He didn’t bother knocking, after all, he wasn’t a guest. Unfortunately, this place was… protected in a way. He couldn’t enter in through his normal means. So he picked the lock. It was simple. Something he knew from a long time ago, another life perhaps. Didn’t matter now. He let himself in, closing and locking the door behind him. If the cats got out Habit would have his head. He sighed. He had been careful. The Habit wasn’t here. He knew that for a fact, had watched him for weeks carefully extracting the information he needed to find the largest window of opportunity he needed. He moved through the main entryway, scowling at some awful smell that wafted from the upstairs. He avoided that for now, He’d rifle around the ground floor first. He didn’t find anything important. Anything he did find was something he already knew. He had to hurry, Michael would start waking up soon and he wanted to deal with what was likely a corpse upstairs first before he did. 

Patrick ascended the staircase, his shoes slapping on the steps much louder than he would like. He scowled, the pungent smell was much stronger now. He moved through any other rooms quickly and quietly. One of them was more lived-in than the other. Probably Habit’s most recent associate. He hadn’t seen much of him, but he had his own theories as to his identity. Patrick hummed. He came to the last door, the smell was at it’s strongest and it almost made Patrick gag. It was incredibly clear now there was something rotten in the room ahead of him. Whatever it was, he didn’t get the chance to see it. Sharp pain in his side startled him, and when it pulled away he whipped around. Habit stood there, holding a large knife, a grin on his face. Patrick grimaced. He had to get out of here. Michael was awake now, asking too many questions at once. 

“Hey goldilocks, porridge to your liking?” Habit cackled, his arm launching out and grabbing Patrick by the front of his shirt, thrusting him to the ground. His lips curled back in a snarl, sharp teeth revealed. His tone flipped, serious, dark, intimidating. “Why are you in my house asshole?”

“Taking a tour of course.” Patrick sat up, moving back slightly. He held a hand to his side. It stung like a motherfucker, and it was only getting worse with every passing second. Was it poisoned? He didn’t know, the light glinting off of it made it hard to look at more closely than being able to tell it was a big knife. “Nice place, love your cats. Smells a little… rancid, however, You should get that checked out, might have rats in the walls.”

“Shut the fuck up, actually.” Habit growled. His eyes were locked on Patrick, laced with maliciousness and anger. “I already know why the fuck you’re here. Wanted to get an early start on the game, huh? Well, sorry to tell you, but too little too late. Vinny and I took a little camping trip already, got shit done.”

That was… wrong. Vinny shouldn’t be under Habit’s thumb this early in the game. Was that what the demon meant when he said he was steps ahead? Habit crouched down low, stalking close to Patrick. He pressed the tip of the knife square into Patrick’s chest. It was hard to see, but there was some sort of symbol burned into the handle. Patrick grimaced. That could be very, very bad. That’s when it clicked. Habit wasn’t just ahead in the game, he had already won. Patrick’s eyes went wide.

“I see you noticed my new toy.” Habit said with a grin. He lifted the knife, letting the light glint off of it. “You already know what this is, don’t you? Good. Then you know that you’re already fucking dead. Isn’t that great? Wow, games almost over already. So sad to see you go.”

“You’re bluffing.” Patrick hissed. He had to be. It made no sense. He shouldn’t be this far ahead. Not yet. It didn’t fit. It wasn’t time. “You’re a fucking liar and both of us know this is one of your little fucking powerplays.”

“You doubt me.” Habit laughed, standing up. “Really? Do you doubt me? Now? I know you can feel the poison working its way through you, the kind that can’t be cured. The poison that comes with a certain, powerful magic.” 

“Yeah, it feels the same as normal poison.” Patrick spat. He pushed himself into the corner, getting to an unsteady stand. Everything ached. His brain felt like it was being torn in two. Michael kept asking questions. Too many questions. “Which I fucking think it is. We both know it’s too early in the game. We both know you’re trying to scare me, and it isn’t fucking working.”

“You’re funny, puffing up your chest and talking a big fucking game.” Habit grinned. He stepped back, palm open. “But whatever. Just this once, I’ll let you go. You’ve earned it. I’ll find your corpse later. 10 seconds, go.”

Patrick would like to say he took his time, that he waltzed out of there with grace. Michael told the truth, explaining how Patrick ran from the house until he reached a point where he could teleport back to the apartment.

Michael finished the story, drinking the tea that Patrick had brought him. He sighed. “And now we’re here.” 

Stormy nodded quietly, thinking. She sighed, wrapping Michael in a tight hug. “Hey, thanks for explaining. I just want you to be ok dude. You’re my best friend.”

“I will be Stormy. I promise.” Michael smiled. “Enough about me, what have you been up to?”

“I got that job I was aiming for,” Stormy said with a smile. “If I can stick around for a few months I’ll be able to get a nicer apartment pretty soon.”

“That rocks!” Michael said with a smile. He hugged her again, patting her shoulder. “God, we should go out together sometime. Get some tea out or go to a movie or something.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Stormy said with a smile. She sighed, standing up. “I should go now. I’m glad you’re doing relatively alright. If you need anything Michael, call me. I’ll be right over.”

“I’ll see you around Stormy.” Michael smiled. Stormy smiled back, waving. She glanced nervously at Patrick.

“See you around Patrick.” She left before he could respond, the door closing quietly behind her. Patrick stood up with a sigh, sitting down next to Michael again.

“How’re you feeling?” He asked, putting a hand on Michael’s shoulder. Michael shrugged. “Alright. If you figure it out let me know. I’m here for you.”

“Thanks, Pat.” Michael smiled. He sighed. “I just… this makes things so much more complicated, and I’m worried. I don’t understand what’s wrong, what did this, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Hey, I don’t know either, so you not knowing is completely fair Michael,” Patrick answered. He sighed, tapping a tempo on his leg. “I’ll figure it out, don’t worry. I’ll fix whatever happened.”

“Would it really be fixing it?” Michael asked. “Putting us back together?”

“I don’t know,” Patrick answered honestly, thinking. He knew things Michael didn’t. He always had, always would. Some things are better forgotten by the other man. He knew that. “Maybe it would be, maybe it wouldn’t. Shouldn’t stop us from finding a method, just in case.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Michael paused, before perking up. “Oh! You get the couch-bed pulled out. I’ll grab some blankets from the closet. You deserve a bed as much as I do.”

“Thanks, Michael,” Patrick said. He rolled up his sleeves, starting to pull the bed out of the couch. He paused when he remembered. He had put that box of files under the blankets in the closet. Files Michael could not see, no matter what. He couldn’t do anything. Michael was already rifling through the closet. He hissed, finishing pulling the bed out before walking down the hall. He cursed internally. Michael was holding the box. “What did you find in there?”

“Old family documents.” Michael grinned. “Finally My birth certificate. Now I don’t need to shell out money for a new one.”

“If it’s even in there. It’s probably just old photo albums. I’ll take it for you.” Patrick reached to grab it, but Michael swatted him away.

“You take the blankets, I’m going to start going through his. Even if it’s just old photos I want to see those. Happier times and all that.”

“Michael, give me the box,” Patrick said, his tone hardening. His eyes narrowed. “Now, please.”

“No I- Patrick what’s your problem.” Michael snapped slightly, growing confused, and a little upset. “It’s my family documents, it doesn’t have anything to do with you. I want to look through them, so I’m going to look through them.”

“Michael, trust me, you don’t want to look through that box,” Patrick said with a sigh. “Please just- trust me. There are things in there it isn’t time for you to know.”

“What? What is so- so bad in my family shit that you think it’s better to lie to me about it then just tell me!” Michael stood up angrily. He stepped towards Patrick. “You can’t just- just decide what I can and can’t know! I’ve had enough of that. Give me a chance to figure things out on my own. Figure out what I want on my own.”

Patrick stepped back, surprised. He didn’t say a word in response. That only made Michael angrier, the lack of response. It was like Patrick didn’t care. 

“Seriously! You always- you always act like I can’t do shit on my own! I can! I can protect myself!” Michael yelled. “I don’t- I don’t need you to baby me! Just… just let me look. Let me see. Let me figure stuff out on my own. Let me just… please.”

“You might not like what you find,” Patrick said quietly.

“I think it should be ok for me to not like something.” Michael sighed. He pushed his hair back, his breath shaky. “I’m allowed to get… hurt, or worried, or scared like anyone else.”

“Haven’t you had enough of that?” Patrick asked, stepping closer slightly. “Haven’t you had enough of being hurt?”

“It’s part of being human, man. People get hurt, I get hurt.” Michael stepped forward, the anger drained from him. He looked so terribly tired. He hugged Patrick, resting his head on his shoulder. “I might not like it but it’s part of life. It’s- It’s how we learn shit. You don’t know the oven’s dangerous until you get a little burned.”

“I-” Patrick paused. Michael was, after all, right. “Yes. I suppose that’s how it works but- I don’t think you entirely understand. This is something that does concern me in a way you don’t understand.” 

“Then tell me what it is,” Michael said, his head buried into Patrick’s shoulder. He sounded miserable. “Just tell me. I can handle it. You can trust me with whatever it is.”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to overwhelm you.” Patrick said. Michael barked out a laugh.

“I think I’m already too overwhelmed to get even more overwhelmed,” Michael said. He pulled away. “Please just tell me. Sit me down and lay it out and talk to me. This is already crazy, It can’t get much crazier.”

“Ok.” Said, Patrick. “But… it is a lot. You’ll want to sit down. It’s… confusing, and you might not understand entirely, but I’ll do what I can to explain. I- I’m going to try, but I might not be clear enough.”

Michael opened his mouth to respond, stopping when a crash was heard in the other room. Patrick moved to go investigate, but Michael stopped him. “Let me handle this.”

Patrick closed his own mouth, glancing away. “Alright.”

Michael smiled, walking forward with confidence. Patrick followed behind but didn’t interfere. Michael wanted to handle this, so Patrick would let him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tick Tock.

Michael stepped into the room, quiet. It didn’t look like anyone was in the room. Maybe something had fallen somewhere. Patrick walked behind him, but stopped, stepping into the bathroom and investigating something. Michael continued, stepping into the middle of the room. The second his foot touched down the light above him burst. He jumped, making a funny noise of surprise. The bathroom door was closed now. Michael had to confront this alone, whatever this was. He stood in the dark, eyes darting around the room. He moved to step forward but stopped abruptly when he felt the feeling of cold metal pressed against his throat.

“Tsk tsk tsk, now Patrick, why haven’t you gone and died yet?” Habit said, his voice a low, gravelly tone. “I told you very nicely, and yet you still feel the need to not listen.”

“I- What?” Michael said, confused as to how Habit had gotten in first of all, and scared second. “I’m not- him. I don’t- please leave me alone.”

“Oh, I see. Hello Michael. I suppose since you asked so nicely you expect me to just… let you and peppermint patty in there go!” Habit said, pulling away from Michael and walking around so the man could see him. He tapped the knife against his palm as he spoke as though annunciating with it. He paused, turning on his heel to face Michael. He pointed the knife to his throat, a sharp-toothed grin on his face. “While I appreciate the hospitality, I came here for a specific reason. I came to get back what is mine. You see- when you and he came to my house, well, it seems I fell for a little… bait and switch.”

“What are you talking about?” He asked. Habit’s grin turned into a small frown. He bounced a little, leaning back with his arms crossed.

“What are you talking about, Habit? We didn’t steal anything, Habit. We knew exactly what you had, how dangerous it was, and we didn’t steal it when we found it, Habit!” The demon said in a mocking tone, pacing back and forth in front of Michael again. He turned, his back now facing Michael. He laughed a dark, slow noise, his voice warping. “Now… I should kill you, you know. You and him. It’s what I would usually do to lying rats and thieves.”

Habit paused, as though for dramatic effect, his hands splayed out, He quickly whipped around, getting in Michael’s face and causing the man to stumble back. He laughed through his teeth, poking Michael in the neck with the knife he currently held. “First you are going to tell me where my knife is, and I don’t mean this bogus piece of crap. You will bring it to me, and then you will beg for my mercy, and as any merciful, powerful individual would do in my situation, I’m going to kill you. Due to you being so rude as to steal from me, well, I only find it fitting that I steal every one of your organs out of your body while you writhe around on the ground like a fish out of water. Then, I’m going to break every bone in your body that won’t kill you, and finally, I will use my knife, a weapon meant to kill gods, and I will waste its great power on you, and slowly you’ll die. Doesn’t that sound… merciful… to you? So Michael, level with me. Where is the god killer.”

“No that- that doesn’t sound very fucking merciful, especially when we didn’t steal shit from you,” Michael said in response. He stepped back, bumping against the wall. “I don’t know what your god killer is, and we didn’t take it.”

“You’re gonna keep lying, huh? Well then, I guess mercy is off the table.” Habit said with a laugh. “You know, I’ll just kill you now and find it myself. It’ll be easier than trying to pull information from you like teeth- oh, now isn’t that a fun idea? I should pull your teeth out.”

Michael’s head hurt, an intense buzzing in the back of his skull as Habit laughed. Habit grabbed Michael, throwing him to the ground and climbing on top of him. He forced Michael’s mouth open as the man struggled, trying to get free, and began aiming the knife for his gums, clearly intending to cut his teeth out of his mouth. Michael’s vision swam, the buzzing growing more intense. That was when he saw it, just over Habit’s shoulder. Michael screamed incoherently, muffled by the hand in his mouth. Habit grimaced.

“Would you shut up and quit whining like a little bitch? I could go get some pliers if that’s what you fucking want.” Habit growled. Michael fell quiet and Habit aimed again. “Aw, you’ve got some pretty little fangs in here. Cute. They’ll look nice on a necklace, don’t you think?”

Habit moved again, intending to drive the knife down. Habit froze. The buzzing in Michael’s mind was so thick it felt like he was choking on it. Habit paused, and time felt like it froze for a second. Habit growled, getting to a slow stand. Looks like stick-in-the-mud wants you tonight. So, I suppose this is goodbye for now. Have fun.”

With that Habit left, the buzzing growing more intense. Michael shakily got to his knees, coughing violently. The tall man loomed over him, the buzzing like a knife splitting through his mind. Michael looked up, his vision swimming. 

“Patrick-” He feebly called out, his voice barely a whisper. He collapsed to the ground, unconscious. The tall man tilted its head, disappearing quickly alongside Michael. Seconds later, Patrick stepped into the room. The only sign of a struggle was the shattered lightbulb in the middle of the room.

He was confused, to say the least. He had only poked into the bathroom for a second, investigating something that had fallen over in the room. He continued to look around, his confusion morphing into fear. Michael was not here. There was no sign of him leaving. The clock also showed a time considerably different from what it should’ve been had he truly only been in the bathroom for a second. He cursed loudly, pacing back and forth. He didn’t know where to start with his search. At least now he could rehide the awful box. 

He made his way into the hall, picking up the box. He took it to the kitchen, setting it on the table for now. He’d look for Michael first. That was more critical. Finding his b- best-friend. That was what they were, weren’t they? Just… closer than most had been for most of their life. Patrick stepped into the main room again, finding and pulling on a jacket. It was cold at night in these months that led up to winter. He found a second coat that he’d give to Michael once they were reunited. Once he knew he had everything he needed he stepped out into the night, completely unsure of where he’d even begin his search. 

Patrick made his way to the local park first, nothing too big and forested but a good place to start if the tall man had taken Michael and not something else. The bastard liked its parks. He began walking, shining a flashlight through the open grass. He felt antsy, worried for Michael’s safety. He paused, stopping for a moment. His breath came out in puffs of steam, and he stepped forward slowly. There was something that didn’t belong ahead of him, but he couldn’t make it out yet, and he was going to be careful as long as Michael was missing. He stepped closer to whatever it was, squinting. He paused when it shifted with a small groan, revealing itself to be a person. He moved closer, hoping to find Michael. He frowned when he could finally see them clearly.

“Hello?” Evan said, covering his eyes, the flashlight blinding him. “Where the fuck am I? Who are you?”

“Hello, Evan,” Patrick said with a small grumble, stepping closer and helping the shorter man up off the ground. “You may not know me, but I’ve known you, and I know Habit.”

“Ugh. I don’t want to deal with any of Habit’s friends right now.” Evan said, pulling away from Patrick’s help. “I just want to go home and not deal with this.”

“I’m far from a friend of his. Consider him an enemy, actually, the asshole.” Patrick said with a small laugh. He stopped, focusing on Evan once more. He paused. He wouldn’t know about the separation, and if Patrick was lucky- Habit wouldn’t know either. It would be best to keep it that way. “You should skip home though, it's not good to hang around these places at this time of night. Not with it out and about.”

“Who are you anyway?” Evan asked, realizing they had never exchanged names despite his being known.”You never said your name man.”

“I’m Patrick Andersen.” He answered with a smile as Evan adjusted himself. ”Good luck to you getting yourself home, I hope we don’t run into each other again, either with you as you or you as Habit. Goodbye.”

“Wait!” Evan said as Patrick began to walk away, causing him to pause in his step, turning back. “I recognize that name now. He stabbed you. I’m… sorry about that.”

“About him stabbing me?” Patrick said with a small laugh. “Well, don’t worry about it. Wasn’t you after all, and besides, isn’t much more than a flesh wound.”

“That knife… it was supposed to kill you,” Evan said, his voice… strange. His eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t it?”

“I honestly don’t know. If it was the right knife it really should’ve.” Patrick said his laugh awkward now. He paused. “I didn’t even know he had it until I was stabbed.”

“Oh,” Evan said quietly. “He thought you stole it. Uh, that Michael guy almost got his teeth ripped out.”

“Oh,” Patrick said, quiet in response. “Well, good thing he didn’t or else we’d both have trouble chewing.”

“I should… probably go,” Evan said, looking around. “This was a… fucking weird meeting.”

“You seem great but I hope a meeting between us never happens again. Goodbye now.” Patrick waved, walking away as Evan stared, a dazed expression still on his face. If Patrick was lucky, which he often failed to be, Evan would remember all of this as a strange dream. People who didn’t think of strange conversations as dreams tended to seek them out again, and Patrick didn’t want that until he sorted everything out. Least of all did he want Evan hanging around, due to Habit. Patrick walked into the darkness, flashlight drifting across the ground. He paused when he got to the edge of the wood, thinking. He was considering not going in, Searching the rest of the open park, until he heard a scream that sounded distinctly like Michael. Quickly he made his way into the woods, following the path. Wherever Michael was, he had gone quiet. Patrick grew nervous.

“Michael?” He called out, his voice echoing through the trees. There wasn’t any other noise but the sound of leaves and twigs under his feet as he ran. “Michael? Where are you?”

No response. Patrick continued to search, running, spending as little time still as he could. He couldn’t waste any time. He didn’t know how deep he was in the woods now, It didn’t matter to him. He had only run in one direction after all, and unless this place was shifting, a subtle thing he didn’t often miss, then he would be fine. He kept running, not really paying attention until he tripped on an exposed root, tumbling forward and down a short decline. That was when, with horror, he felt a shift, and when he landed his horror only grew. He was in a clearing now, and he quickly scrambled up as a static began to build in the back of his brain. In the center stood what, at first glance looked like a tree, but the oppressive static and the silence cut through only by a rhythmic ticking told him this was something different. This was a clock. This was that clock.

Its face was large, distinctly void of its hand. Despite that it still ticked, the pendulum beneath the face swinging slowly. Its base was far from traditional, looking like a gnarled tree in shape. Patrick’s breathing grew quick. He shouldn’t be here, and if Michael was here he shouldn't either. Being here was dangerous. He glanced away from the clock, trying to see if Micheal was visible. He wasn’t. The static kept building. He didn’t understand why he was here. He wasn’t supposed to be here. The clock kept ticking, and the static kept building, and Patrick felt as though someone had glued his feet to the floor. He wanted to run, needed to run, but he couldn’t. Again, as Patrick thought to make himself just run, he felt another shift, one caused by himself. That was good. Despite this… stupor he had fallen into, this one that made his chest feel tight and his eyes wide and his breathing and heart far too fast, that he was teleporting away from the clock. He could find Michael, and everything would be fine. But he didn’t change location, instead, he watched as the world changed around him, seasons changing hundreds, thousands, if not tens of thousands of times. He couldn’t tell for sure. He was still distracted by how hard it was to simply breathe. Finally, the world snapped into place, and Patrick’s eyes focused. The clock had changed, those familiar hands turning on its face. A matching pair, looking like branches reaching across the pale, white face, turning slowly as the ticking continued. The oppressive static was there, a constant white noise, but was far less oppressive. He stood, quietly breathing in the snow. 

“Come on! It’s right over here!” He heard a boy call out, laughing. A voice familiar, yet distant. Where was that voice from? “I promise, it’s really cool- and it’s real!”

Running into view came a fairly young boy, head covered in a red toque, dark blonde hair poking out of it. He was skinny and tall and wore a coat a size too big, and almost tripped as he tried to move too quickly through the snow. He laughed, turning back to face another boy who came into the clearing. Shorter and a bit stockier than the other boy, he also appeared to be older. He seemed annoyed, and he glared at the taller boy through glasses mended with tape in the middle. He had dark hair, long and tied back in a ponytail. Patrick realized when he was, and just as he did when he realized where he was earlier, he quickly concluded he shouldn’t be here. 

“Why did you drag me out here to see some old clock someone dumped?” Shaun asked, crossing his arms, ever the Debbie downer.

“It’s not just a clock someone dumped Shaun! It’s a cool clock, it looks like a tree!” the kid, who he presumed to be Michael, responded, clearly excited by his discovery as he grabbed Shaun’s arm, pulling him towards the clock. Shaun’s eyes widened, but his expression didn’t change otherwise. He was still pretending to be bored. “It looks like it was made out here… but why would someone make a clock in the middle of the woods? And how is it still working..? And how did no one else ever find it?”

“If you’re just going to talk to yourself then I’m leaving you out here,” Shaun said, his voice dripping with bitterness. “I don’t care about your stupid… clock in the middle of the woods. It’s probably just some weirdo art project.”

“Alright,” Michael said quietly, normally a boy who would hate to be left alone, especially in the winter woods. But he was enamoured with the clock, putting a hand to its pale face and peering at his faint reflection visible in the ivory. He didn’t see the faint reflection still watching him as he turned to Shaun. “Go home. I’m going to investigate it some more.”

“I will go home,” Shaun said, but it was clear he was taken aback. Surprised, and confused. He paused for a moment, turning to walk away. “I’m leaving now. I’ll… I’ll make you some hot chocolate when you get back.”

“Ok,” Michael said, focused once again on the clock. Shaun blinked, turned, and walked back the way he came. Michael was still focused on the clock. He brought his hand up, from the numbers to the face to the hands. He ran his hand along with it, pulling away suddenly when the edge of the tip of the smaller hand cut his finger. He hissed quietly, sticking it in his mouth to prevent it from bleeding. He reached his other hand up. Patrick couldn’t look away. He wrapped it around the hand, and with a quiet snap, it came loose, the longer hand falling into the snow when the bolt holding them both came loose. Michael picked it up, smiling at his find. Patrick cringed, knowing what happened next, and knowing he couldn’t stop it. He could only watch as the static began to build, as Michael’s nose began to bleed, as the ground seemed to shake. He could only watch as something unimaginably horrible seemed to unwrap itself from the clock itself, as Michael fell to the ground, unconscious. Finally, he tore his eyes away. He couldn’t watch the rest.

When he opened his eyes again he was back in the present, back with the empty clock and its oppressive air. But now Michael was there too, splayed out on the ground in front of the clock as though falling back from its face. His nose was bleeding. Patrick rushed forward, picking him up and dragging him away from the clock.

“Pat?” Michael croaked, his eyes opening slightly. “What’s happening?”

“Don’t worry Michael. You’ll be okay.” Patrick answered, “Just close your eyes and sleep. We’re just heading home.”

“...ok Pat. Whatever you say,” Michael replied, still out of it. As soon as Patrick felt it was safe he teleported, bringing the two of them back to the apartment. He stumbled, laying Michael on the floor before he moved away. He felt nauseous. His nose was bleeding, his ears rang, and the static was fading slower than he’d like. He took a step towards the kitchen, collapsing on the floor.

“Pat? Pat?” He heard a voice call, murky and far away. He was slipping into unconsciousness as the voice continued to call. And then, he was gone. “Why are you lying in the-”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW// Blood, Violence, Death involving minors
> 
> In Dreams.

Patrick woke up in a bed he didn’t recognize, in a room, he couldn’t place. Everything felt strange as though it were suspended in time. Slowly, things began to move, and gentle light filtered in through the nearby window. Patrick blinked, sitting up quietly and looking around. Someone else slept in a bed on the opposite side of the room. He still couldn’t place where he was. He stood up, bare feet touching the wooden floor. It was cold, probably sometime in the winter. He carefully peered out the window, confirming his theory when he saw sunlight glinting off the bone-white snow. He sighed, breath fogging up the glass. He glanced around again, making his way towards the door at the end of the room. He cringed when one of the floorboards inched down, squeaking loudly. 

“Huh?” The person in the other bed said quietly, sitting up with bleary eyes. He blinked, once, twice, smiling at Patrick when he had woken up enough to interpret the situation. A younger Michael, probably 13 or 14, stared at him quietly. This didn’t make sense. “Hey, Pat. Good morning. What’re you up to?”

“I…” Patrick didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t know what was going on. “Nothing, I guess. Just… thinking.”

“You’re always thinking Pat,” Michael said with a small laugh. He got out of his own bed, sitting on the edge of it and looking at Patrick with his wide eyes. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Just… something’s wrong. I-” Patrick paused. What was wrong? He knew a moment ago, he had to remember. He cursed, pacing back to the window and looking outside. Winter. Yes, that was wrong. It hadn’t snowed yet. It shouldn’t be snowy- and this whole room was wrong, and their separation at this age. All of this was wrong. “Where am I, Michael?”

“Your home.” He said, his voice small. He seemed antsy now, which bothered Patrick. Why was he antsy? Was he aware of the wrongness too? “You’re acting funny. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just- I shouldn’t-” Patrick paused. He breathed in, deep and quiet. “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Everything is- It’s all peachy. Promise.”

“If you’re sure.” Michael sighed quietly. He paused. Patrick’s breathing wasn’t calm anymore as he tried to think. This was all wrong. This whole situation- it wasn’t possible and it shouldn’t be happening. His palms were sweating. Why were his palms sweating? He had never felt like this- not over something so small anyway. “You’re having a panic attack, Pat. Let me help.”

“What? I don’t- I don’t get-” He paused. He was getting distracted. He had to think. He needed to straighten out his mind and figure out what was going on, why and how he was here. Michael reached out to him, almost touching his arm. Patrick snapped away, stumbling back and slipping, smacking his head on the floor. He hissed in pain whilst Michael grew worried. “Don’t- don’t touch me. Please. I can’t- I can’t think- just- don’t.”

“Ok. Ok. I’ll just sit with you.” Michael said quiet, gentle. Patrick hated this. It felt so… out of place. It made him feel worse because it only reminded him how out of place everything was, like a cascade just out of time. “Do you… do you want me to help?”

“Please,” Patrick said quietly. He wanted this feeling to stop. He wanted to be able to sort things out and figure out why and how he was here, why they were children, and why Michael was acting like this was all normal. Patrick felt awfully vulnerable, and he hated that so much. “Just- Please.”

“Ok. Breathe in and out, slowly. And… and focus on me, okay? Don’t think about anything else, just focus on me.” Michael smiled at him as Patrick nodded quietly, listening. Slowly, he got his breathing under control, Michael guiding him quietly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?” Patrick asked, genuinely confused by the question.

“About what made you panic,” Michael said, scooting closer to him. He tentatively lifted a hand, intending to put it around Patrick’s shoulders. He paused. Patrick nodded, letting him know it was ok. He didn’t feel much like talking at all right now. “Usually we talk when one of us does but sometimes we don’t- and- and that’s ok too. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t know,” Patrick said quietly. That was the truth, he didn’t know because he couldn’t remember. He was shaking slightly, and Michael frowned. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok. Sometimes… Sometimes we just get panicked, remember? It’s the way it goes.” Michael said quietly. Patrick leaned on him. They were quiet for a moment, Michael quietly humming. “Oh! Do you want to see something cool I found the other day? I tried to show Shaun yesterday but- he wasn’t interested.”

“Shaun’s never interested,” Patrick said with a laugh. Michael pushed him slightly, laughing back.

“He’s interested sometimes! You just gotta find something interesting to him.” Michael insisted. He stood up, using Patrick as support before helping Patrick up from the floor. “Seriously though, do you want to come see?”

“Of course. I’m surprised you didn’t show me first.” Patrick said with a small grin. There was still the underlying feeling that something was terribly wrong but- If he couldn’t place the problem it was better not to work himself up by thinking about that feeling. “Usually we find weird stuff together.”

“I know, but I couldn’t find you when I found it and I couldn’t find you the day I showed Shaun,” Michael said with a huff. The two of them got ready for the day as they spoke. “It was weird. Have you been able to teleport this whole time and never told me?”

“Michael you know if I could teleport I’d take us somewhere better than Colorado. Like… Paris, or West Virginia, or… I don’t know. But better than Colorado.” Patrick insisted.

“Neither of us can speak french,” Michael said with a laugh. “And you only want to go to West Virginia so we can find the Mothman.”

“We could learn, and finding the Mothman together would be fun.” Patrick smiled, stepping over to Michael and putting an arm over his shoulder. “We’d be famous, and everyone would love us!”

“People already love us,” Michael said to him, pushing him off lightly. “Sure, it might not be hundreds or thousands of people, but I think it’s enough.”

“Sure,” Patrick said with a small laugh. “I think… as long as we’re together I don’t need anything else. You’re my best friend.”

“And you’re mine,” Michael said with a smile. He paused, looking in the mirror for a brief second before grabbing Patrick by the hand and pulling him out of the room. “Come on, let’s go.”

They ate breakfast alone, chatting and laughing. Shaun didn’t make an appearance, and neither did their parents. Shaun made sense - he was probably out with his own friends. But their parents weren’t at work today. Patrick brushed it off, focusing on how he and Michael were going to have a wonderful day. They both finished, Preparing to go out in the winter day.

It didn’t take long for Michael to lead Patrick through the woods to what he had found. In the trips he had made there to look at it he had memorized the path. He didn’t let go of Patrick’s arm as they walked, even though the two of them were perfectly capable of walking side by side. It was as though Michael were a bit scared. Patrick dug his heels into the ground, stopping the two of them in their tracks. 

“Mikey, What’s wrong?” Patrick asked when the other boy turned to face him. As soon as Patrick asked, Michael’s demeanour changed, and he grew nervous. He mumbled a bit, shuffling his hands. “Come on. You can tell me.”

“Well- the last time I came out here… I got hurt. I stole something and- and I got hurt.” Michael answered sheepishly. Patrick grew angry. Who would dare hurt Michael?

“Who did it?” He asked, keeping his calm face. He paused, thinking. “And what did you take?”

“I don’t know, and it would be easier if I showed you,” Michael said, being entirely honest. “I’m gonna put them back today. I shouldn’t have taken them. It wasn’t right of me.”

“Ok. Let’s go then.” Patrick said. “If anyone tries to attack us I’m going to beat them up.”

“If you do you’ll get in trouble again.” Michael sighed as he continued to lead the way.”You can’t get in trouble Pat. You know what’ll happen if you get in trouble again.”

“I won’t get in trouble Mikey. I’ll die before they separate us, especially if they try to over something I did.” Patrick kicked the snow as they walked, sending a puff of it up into the air.

“Don’t say that,” Michael said quietly. “I know you’re not serious but you know I don’t like it when you get all I’ll die before whatever about stuff. What if you do die someday?”

“Sorry,” Patrick mumbled quietly, glancing into the trees. “I’ll try not to.”

“It’s ok. I just- I don’t know. I’ve been feeling weird lately.” Michael said with a hum. “I’m getting worried again. I keep getting the feeling something bad is going to happen, and I don’t like it.”

“Nothing bad’s going to happen. I promise.” Patrick insisted as they came to a slower gait. The birds weren’t chirping here, and Patrick felt uncomfortable.

“You can’t promise that,” Micael mumbled. Patrick hadn’t heard him. They pushed forward, into the clearing. In the center was the clock like a gnarled tree, its face devoid of hands, yet still ticking. It made Patrick even more uncomfortable. “This is it. Cool, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s neat…” Patrick said, walking up to it. “Where are it’s…”

“Hands?” Michael said. He reached into his pockets, pulling them out and presenting them to Patrick. Patrick took the larger one, studying it. It looked sharp, and sleek, and like a tree branch. It felt like it was humming in his hands. He shook that feeling off. That was ridiculous. Things don’t hum on their own. As he looked at the clock hand Michael set to work trying to reattach his from the pair. It wasn’t working and he began to get more frustrated as a buzz filled the air, growing more intense with every second.

“Michael. Stop.” Patrick said, tugging on his sleeve. Michael glared at him quietly, and Patrick shrunk away. “We should go- we can just leave them here-”

“No, I can fix it. I need to fix it.” Michael interrupted. Patrick didn’t understand what had made him so angry so suddenly. The buzz grew more intense, and Patrick scratched at his head a little. It was nothing. It would go away. He stepped back, circling the clock, looking at it more closely. He huffed, deciding to make his way into the woods to explore a little. If Michael was going to ignore him to mess with a stupid clock he’d find something cooler to mess with. He paused, There was something in the woods, moving towards them. It couldn’t be described, a mess of colours and shapes, and even sounds that rang sharply in his ears. It shifted, and throbbed, and cascaded, and was perfectly still at the same time. It was overwhelming, and when Patrick realized how close it truly was, he ran back to Michael.

“Michael, Michael we have to go, there’s something in the woods.” He said, out of breath. Michael didn’t glare at him now, concerned. “I- I don’t know what it was- but it was freaky.”

“Ok. Let’s-” Michael paused, pointing into the trees. “Is that it?”

“Yeah,” Patrick said, looking at it, but quickly looking back to Michael. “Yeah you see what I mean, right?”

"That's just a guy, Patrick, calm down," Michael said, clearly upset and angry now. "Leave it alone, People are allowed to walk through the woods."

"You don't see it?" Patrick asked incredulously, glancing back at the shifting mass of colours and shapes. “Are you serious? You’re not seeing what I’m fucking seeing?”

“Patrick don’t swear.” Michael chastised. Patrick grew even more upset by this.

“Don’t tell me not to swear when there’s- that thing out here and you’re not seeing it! Are you blind?” Patrick said loudly. The buzzing was loud now, a constant tone that was driving him crazy. His hand was tightly wrapped around the hand Michael had given to him. Patrick grabbed his arm with his free hand, “This is serious! I don’t know what that is! Come on, we need to go!”

“Shut up!” Michael shouted, shoving Patrick away, hard. He fell to the ground, breathing fast and shallow. “There’s nothing there! It’s just- just some guy! Now shut up while I try and fix this!”

Patrick closed his mouth. The feeling of wrongness had returned. This whole situation was wrong. There was something deeply wrong.

“I said shut up!” Michael screamed at him, confusing Patrick further. He hadn’t said anything. “Stop whispering! It’s not funny!”

“I’m not whispering Michael,” Patrick said quietly. His head felt like it was full of pressure as the buzzing grew more and more intense. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t think straight. If Michael was experiencing the same thing he doubts he could either. The thing was in the clearing with them now, but Michael paid it no mind. “What’re you hearing?”

“I’m hearing you, and I know it’s you so stop lying about it,” Michael said angrily, stomping over to Patrick. He paused, something in his demeanour changing. The thing seemed to shift and change faster for a moment, doing something. Michael’s eyes narrowed a look of disgust on his face. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to distract me! You don’t want me to fix this!”

“Michael I don’t know what’s going on,” Patrick said, his voice wavering. He was trying to stay calm even though the wrongness settled on him like a layer of dust, permeating everything. “Please stop. You’re scaring me.”

“Why should I?” Michael said, his voice laced with malice. “You’ve caused problems for me my whole life, and this is just another problem! No- You’re the problem! You’ve always been the problem! You’ve always dragged me down!”

“What are you talking about?” Patrick exclaimed, confused, and frightened, and offended. “I- Michael, I’m your brother! What are you saying?”

“You’ve always been just… just a copy of me! Like- like a parasite and an identity thief!” Michael was getting incredibly worked up, unnaturally so. He had never gotten angry like this. He had never said any of this. “And- and when you have a parasite… you’re supposed to get rid of it…”

“Michael, what are you doing?” Patrick said as Michael stumbled closer. He looked angry, and for a split second, the world seemed to freeze. Patrick lifted his fist in front of his face, meaning to protect it as Michael charged at him angrily. When Michael made a strange choked noise, he realized something was very, very wrong. When his eyes opened, Michael stared at him with a shocked expression. Patrick’s eyes moved downward, quickly catching the issue.

“Oh god,” Patrick said as Michael scrabbled at his throat, which the clock hand he had been holding moments ago was now embedded in. He had blocked with the wrong hand. Quickly he scrambled forward, grabbing Michael’s wrists. “No, no, Michael you can’t- you can’t pull it out, that’ll make it worse ok? Please don’t try and pull it out- just- just try to keep breathing, please. Oh my god, I”m so sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry.”

He turned his back for a moment, looking for anything that could help when he heard Michael scream. He whipped back around. Michael held the bloodied hand in his palm. He was crying now, and Patrick felt like a monster. He rushed forward, putting a hand to Michael’s throat, trying to stop the bleeding. “No- no- Michael why did you do that? Michael- you- you could die! Please- please just listen.”

Patrick knew it was too late already, or likely would be by the time they got back to the house. He was crying himself. Yet he smiled when Michael quietly nodded.

“Cover up- cover it up with your hand. Please. I’ll be right back with the first aid kit. I promise.” Patrick said. He didn’t leave until Michael nodded again. Then he took off like a bullet, back to the house faster than he had ever been, his hands covered in blood. He grabbed the first aid kit quickly and grabbed the wood axe on the way out. He didn’t want either of them to get hurt again. He made it back quickly. Michael was slumped against the clock but- he was still breathing. Patrick quickly set to work, using gauze and medical tape to cover the wound. He smiled at Michael. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

Michael didn’t respond. Instead, his head lolled quietly to the side, eyes closed.

“Michael?” Patrick asked, shaking his shoulder. He didn’t respond. Patrick kept shaking him, desperate, his pleas growing more and more intense. He stumbled back. Michael was dead. Michael was dead and it was his fault. He stood up, using the axe to support him. He shook, violently, not sure how to react, staring with wide eyes. He glanced around. No one else was there. It was just him, the clock, and the body.

The clock. That was the problem. Patrick’s sadness turned to a fit of red-hot anger. If not for the clock- this wouldn’t have happened. Patrick adjusted his grip on the axe, and after a sliver of hesitation, swung it up and into the face of the clock. It shattered.

And then time and space shattered for Patrick, sending him spiralling.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dangerous discovery and a vision from another place and time.

Patrick woke with a start, his body aching. It had been a dream, he quickly realized. A strange dream that had felt all too real. He breathed in and out, staring at the ceiling as he tried to get it under control. After what felt like ages he finally felt like he could get off the floor. He did, making his way to the kitchen. He grabbed pain killers, and water, and sat at the kitchen table, head in his hand. He was glad it was a dream, even if he didn’t know what to make of it. It had been… a lot, to say the least. He remained silent as he drank the water in the dark kitchen, before standing up and returning to the living room. He approached Michael, who was still lying unconscious on the floor, blood across his face from his nose. Patrick sighed, crouching down and shaking his shoulder.

“Hey, Michael.” He said loudly. The other man quietly stirred, slowly waking up. “Michael. What the fuck happened.”

“I-” Michael said, pausing as he drew a hand to his temple with a hiss. A headache no doubt. “I don’t really know. Habit was here, and then… I wasn’t here, and then I saw…. I saw the clock and it’s all black from there.”

“Any dreams?” Patrick asked, quiet, curious. “Or just… darkness.”

“Just darkness… no dreams. Why?” Michael asked as Patrick helped him to a steady stand. It was as he thought to guide him to the kitchen that he was reminded of the box, and chose instead to direct Micheal to the couch. “Is something up?”

“No, just… I had one. I don’t remember much of it though.” Patrick lied, sighing. “It’s just bizarre because we both know that- I don’t dream.”

“Because of the whole, not human thing, right?” Michael asked, wringing his hands. “I- It does sound weird but- maybe it’s just a side effect of this other thing we haven’t figured out yet.”

“Yeah. Probably nothing to worry about. Hell, it could’ve been some sort of hallucination.” Patrick said with a small chuckle. Michael drew a hand up to his face, cringing at the blood.

“I should take a shower.” He muttered, standing up from the couch. He sighed. “I’m going to go do that. I… don’t like the blood on me.”

“No problem man. Take your time.” Patrick said. As soon as Michael was gone, he returned to the kitchen to retrieve the box and put it somewhere else. To his surprise and horror, the box wasn’t there, and it wasn’t anywhere in the apartment. The only thing he could find was a sticky note on the counter where it had been before that read ‘:) - H.’ He knew exactly who had the box, and he knew that was an awful thing.

He slammed his fist on the counter. Quickly, he regained his composure. All he had to do here was make sure things didn’t get leaked to Michael. That was easy enough. He could go back to Habit’s house, steal the box back, and probably burn everything that Michael wouldn’t ever actually need. It was a simple plan that would be easy to execute, hell, he could probably execute it right now. He laughed and teleported.

Except for the fact he didn’t. He was still in the apartment, despite operating as he usually did. His lips drew into a thin line, and he shook his head. Probably not focused enough. He tried again. It still failed. This was… worrying, to say the least. Patrick dropped it for now. Perhaps he was simply in another layer of dreaming. Maybe he was just too drained from the day. Night. Whatever frame of time had passed. He’d try again tomorrow, and everything would be fine.

In the meantime, he set towards making some breakfast of some kind. It was around 7:00 am now, and he was starving. No doubt Michael was too. He set to work, using it as an excuse to distract himself and ignore the idea that whatever was happening had caused him to lose something. It was a dreadful idea he refused to entertain.

Michael was faring better than Patrick, for the most part. He was still shaken up, but his mind wasn’t as plagued as the other man. He sighed, looking in the bathroom mirror quietly. He hadn’t been entirely honest with Patrick. He had a dream. It had been… rather lovely. Calm and- It wasn’t something he had necessarily wanted to leave behind. Sure- it was strange and some things didn’t quite seem to fit but… it had been nice. 

It had begun in a room that felt familiar on a cold winter morning. He had gotten up, slightly confused, but had quickly fallen into what had felt like a normal routine. That included stepping over to a bed on the opposite side of the room and shaking someone else awake. As the dream progressed, Michael slowly slipped into it, the fact that it was a dream escaping him. It felt less like a dream, and more like a true experience. A pinpoint in time.

“Hey. Hey, wake up.” Michael said with a small grin on his face. He shook the shoulder of the person in the bed, who then rolled to face him with a grumble. “Come on, it’s time to get up.”

“Michael… how early is it?” The boy nearly identical to him mumbled quietly. “Is it seven in the morning or earlier this time?”

“It’s eight. I knew you wanted to sleep in, Pat. So I waited until eight.” He said quietly, still smiling. “Come on, it’s Christmas. Get up.”

“Oh!” Patrick said, getting up in a hurry now. Michael laughed as he stumbled around the room, getting dressed. He glared back at Michael, who was still laughing. “I forgot, ok? I had a funny dream.”

“What was it about?” Michael asked, waiting for his brother to get ready. He was clearly excited for the day at hand, waiting with anticipation. “Was it cool funny or not funny type of funny?.”

“Cool funny. It was me, you, and Shaun. We were on an adventure. Shaun didn’t want to be there but he was having fun. We were in the woods looking for something, and I was scouting around for it with you.” Patrick explained. “Except I could teleport around, it was really neat. I don’t remember much else from there.”

“That is neat,” Michael said. “Teleporting sounds cool. Like a superhero.”

“Yeah!” Patrick smiled. He paused for a second, seeming to think, before perking up again. “Let’s get going.”

The day had proceeded as though it were a normal Christmas, but clearly, in the dream, it had been warped with things changed. The biggest thing being Patrick as a brother, and not some supernatural force in his head. It had been a nice dream albeit the strangeness. 

Michael finished up in the bathroom, making his way back into the living room. Patrick sat on the couch, head in his hands. Clearly, he was incredibly stressed about something. Michael sat down next to him, quiet for a moment. “What’s wrong?”

Patrick looked up, staring at Michael for a moment, clearly mulling over some decision in his mind. He sighed, chuckling slightly as he looked away. “Teleportation isn’t working.”

“What do you mean it isn’t working?” Michael asked concern etched into his face. His mind ran through all the things that could be wrong, considering if this was a joke. Why would Patrick joke about this sort of thing? “You just… can’t?”

“I just can’t,” Patrick said, explanation enough. This was worrying. This put them at a major disadvantage. If Habit showed up, if the tall man showed up, the two of them were screwed. “You probably already know how incredibly bad that is for both of us already. I’m trying to keep calm for now. Perhaps it is temporary, and I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

“Do you think it could be because of all this? Like the dreams?” Michael said, gesturing between the two of them, highlighting their current separation.”I… maybe it’s that. Maybe when we figure it out things’ll fix themselves.”

“I’d rather hope I just need to rest and I’ll be fine,” Patrick said with a small laugh, not so much taking it in stride so much as pretending to. He couldn’t be afraid. Couldn’t be worried. Being scared, or worried, or over-concerned cost time, and time cost life, and Patrick only had so much of both. He knew that. “I’ll let you know when everything is good. For now, I’m going to bed.”

“You take the room tonight, I’ll take the couch,” Michael said to him, standing up. “I’m going to be up longer, it’s only eight or nine in the morning. I don’t want to be walking around and keeping you up. If I need to sleep I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Alright,” Patrick said, too tired to fight over something as small as sleeping arrangements with the other man. He stretched, popping his back before going into the apartment's bedroom. He sat down on the bed with a sigh. He stared at the wall, wondering if he looked as dishevelled as he felt. He laid down, closing his eyes. They ached, and a headache throbbed behind them. Slowly, against his will and better judgement, he fell into a deep sleep.

He felt like he was listening to a conversation from another room. He couldn’t see anything, couldn’t move. He could only listen as two people argued with muffled voices that slowly became clear. This seemed important. Patrick took it all in.

“ -I told you I wanted the god killer. I wanted something that would kill him, that I could hold over him and guide him down the path that benefits me. This isn’t what you promised me.” The one voice hissed. Both of them felt familiar, raising flags in his mind. He couldn’t identify them despite that due to the distortion. “You, if anything, gave him an advantage over me! That is exactly the opposite of what I wanted, and I don’t know why I’m keeping you alive right now when you clearly don’t know how to take simple instructions.”

“I took your instructions and I gave you exactly what you asked for. You said you wanted something that would ‘let you kill a god.’ You never said you wanted something that would directly kill a god. Monkey’s Paw, my friend.” The other voice laughed. “Besides, he isn’t a god, not even a demi-god or something like that. All his power comes from something else. Break that link, and you’ve just got a man who’s vulnerable from leaning on power far too much. You can still kill him, you just have to find him and take him on like any other person you’ve killed. I followed your simple instructions and I innovated on them. He’s weak now, easy to hunt. He doesn’t know he’s weak yet. Still hung up on that part, and without that connection anymore he has no way to figure out what’s going on!” 

“You better be right.” The other voice hissed. “If you aren’t I’ll be hunting you down and taking you the fuck out. I don’t care if your little book club gets fucking pissed at me over it. They can find someone better than your joker ass. And leave your monkey’s paws at the door, when I want something I want it done my way. I don’t want your brand of bullshit.”

“Fine, fine. I see how it is.” They laughed. “I should really be on my way now you know. I’ve got someone to bother tonight. If you need something don’t fucking ask. Your favour is repaid. If I see you again I might just kill you if I’m in a bad enough mood.”

“Close the door when you leave-”

“I know, I know, the cats.” Another laugh. “Tell the man upstairs he’s going to come into some good fortune soon.”

“I’ll tell people whatever the fuck I want to.” The main voice hissed, clearly tired of the other person and wanting them to leave. Everything fell silent, and Patrick felt a deep sense of dread. He had a sneaking suspicion this was not a dream, rather that he was seeing a snippet of a conversation suspended in time. Maybe it was paranoia, maybe it was a sixth sense, but Patrick knew one thing. He and Michael had to leave where they were immediately, had to find somewhere they wouldn’t be found by whoever had been speaking, and if he had to hazard a guess that at least one of those people was Habit.


	7. Chapter 7

Patrick had quickly informed Michael that they had to leave his apartment. Quickly they prepared, packing various items, Michael informing his work there was a non-specific family emergency for the next while, and finally, they did a last sweep of the apartment. They had everything they would need, and with that, they quickly left, Michael scrawling out a quick note for if Shaun came to the apartment sooner than his monthly visits. ‘I’m safe, going to her place, there was an emergency. There if you need me. - Michael.’

With that they were on their way, walking down the street. Michael kept track of their bags and items while Patrick kept a sharp eye out for anyone who may be after them. In the end, Patrick knew it wasn’t much use, Habit could be anyone right now. Another ability they had in common. He hated the commonality between them. They walked for about an hour, navigating through crowds until they reached their destination, an apartment complex not unlike Michaels’s, but one Habit hopefully wouldn’t know how to find. Michael buzzed up to her apartment, hoping she was home. Lucky for them, she answered.

“Hello? Who is this?” Stormy asked through the intercom. “If you’re selling something I’m not interested.”

“Stormy it’s me. It’s an emergency. Patrick’s here, I know you don’t want him here but please help us this is a big deal.” Michael said quickly.

“Mikey?” Stormy asked after a brief pause. She paused again. The door buzzed open. “Come on up.”

Quickly the pair moved into the apartment building, taking the stairs to Stormy’s floor and quickly finding her room. Michael knocked on her door, frantic. She opened it, quickly letting them in with a wary glance at Patrick, before pulling Michael into a tight hug. “What’s going on Michael?”

“We’re being hunted down. Don’t know why. I decided to come here because they wouldn’t know you live here according to Patrick.” Michael explained quickly. Stormy glanced at Patrick again.

“You trusted him?” She said, voice low. Patrick could still hear her. “What if he’s lying? What if he leads them here?”

“Well first of all I wouldn’t be considering my own head is on the line. Besides, doing that would more than likely get Michael killed.” Patrick said with a sigh. “Secondly, You do know I don’t actively want you dead right? That’s a bit antithetical to my goals right now.”

“Please just trust me when I say he’s not dangerous for you now Stormy. I wouldn’t bring him here if he was.” Michael said, his voice quiet. Stormy nodded. If she trusted anyone, she trusted Michael. He was her best friend, one of her only friends. She sighed.

“Fine, both of you can stay but you have to tell me everything that’s been happening, why you’re being hunted, why this is all going down,” Stormy said. Michael nodded before Patrick could speak up. He sighed but didn’t protest, following the two to the kitchen so they could discuss, and discuss they did.  
\------------------------------  
Meanwhile, at Michael’s apartment, two different people were entering in different ways. Habit had teleported in and was currently wrecking the place, searching for Patrick. Even if they didn’t die he knew they’d be easy to take out, considering he shared a body with the Michael guy. He should’ve just killed Michael sooner. Did what he said he was going to do, stick in the mud be damned. His only lead was a note he couldn’t use considering it didn’t use names. Habit paused when he heard keys turn in a door, looking up as it opened. Shaun stepped into the apartment, looking at his phone as he entered the room.

“Michael? Sorry, I’m dropping in but I just had a feeling I should.” Shaun said, he paused when he looked up, seeing the state of the apartment and a stranger standing there. Instantly he grew defensive. “Who the fuck are you? What the fuck is going on in here?”

“Well, I was hoping you could tell me.” Habit said, putting up a friendly facade.”Michael’s a friend of mine, and I came here to wish him a late birthday. All I found was his apartment like this and a weird note. Maybe you could tell me if you know anything about it.”

“Let me see it,” Shaun said, dropping his defences as Habit expected. He read over the note, he sighed. “He’s at Stormy’s house. He’ll be fine. I wonder what happened here though.”

“So do I.” Habit said, feigning ignorance. “Maybe we could go to Stormy’s house together and figure it out. Maybe something happened with Patrick, some sort of attack on Michael. I mean, he’s a shitty guy it would make sense.”

“You know about Michael’s Patrick thing?” Shaun asked, surprised. 

“Yeah, he told me about that, we’re really good friends.” Habit continued, gears turning in his mind. “Now, what do you say about heading over to Stormy’s house?”

“It seems like it’s a good idea, and if you’re a friend of Michael…” He was really saying if Habit thought the Patrick thing was as bad as he himself thought it was, “then yeah, I trust you. Let’s go.”  
“Great, I’m sure everything’ll turn out just fine.” Habit grinned as the two of them left the apartment. “I mean, can’t have been too bad of an emergency if he left a note.”  
\------------------------------

“So you’re saying that you’re being hunted because instead of dying you two got separated into two halves? And that this Habit guy is now out for you, and he can teleport too?” Stormy asked. “And you’re saying he’s dangerous, more dangerous than you, and that if he kills you he’ll kill all of us too?”

“Exactly.” Patrick sighed, sitting back. He tapped his fingers on the table.

“It’s all the truth.” Michael corroborated, and Stormy nodded.

“Why don’t you just teleport away or whatever?” Stormy asked. At that Patrick chuckled. “What’s funny?” 

"Right now, I Can't teleport, I can't control anything to do with time, we already know I can't jump back to you as a host-" Patrick spoke gesturing to Michael, but was interrupted by Stormy.

"You can use other people as hosts?" She asked, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. "Why do you stick with Micheal then? Why didn't you ever hop into Shaun, or Eric, or me, or anyone else?"

"Yeah, you've... never been gone from my head until now Patrick," Michael said, narrowing his eyes with curiosity in direct opposition to Stormy's suspicion. "Why?"

Patrick paused. He didn't have any good answer. He had never actually tried to switch hosts, to control somebody else. He had never considered it. Never tried it. Maybe he couldn't do it. Slowly, Patrick realized how little he actually knew about his abilities. Yes, he knew how to use them, how to exploit them in his favour, but he didn't entirely know the extent of them, how they worked. This realization... was concerning, to say the least. "I... I'm thinking about it now and I don't think I actually could. It was a grievous assumption that I made and must've convinced myself was true at some point along the way."

"Are you lying?" Stormy asked, still suspicious and rightfully so. Patrick had been the exact opposite of a good person to her.

"I'm not. I promise." Patrick said, and for the first time that night, Stormy seemed to believe him without Michael speaking up. He paused, quiet for a moment. Something felt wrong. He brushed it off. “I’m sorry I’m intruding here Stormy, but I’m not going to lie to you, I’m not going to hurt you, I’m not going to do anything. I just want to get this figured out, and right now part of that is a little bit of running and hiding until we get some sort of lead, and here is the safest place to hide.”

Stormy was quiet for a moment, thinking. She sighed, looking at Patrick. “I’m going to choose to believe you. I don’t trust you as far as I could throw you, not for a second, but you and Michael can stay here. I trust Michael. Don’t take advantage of that.”

“I won’t,” Patrick promised. She nodded slowly, about to speak again when the group was interrupted by a knock at the door. Stormy stood up, walking to it. Patrick grew visibly tense. Had they been found already? If it was Habit he could’ve easily already entered the apartment. Stormy glanced back at them, standing in front of the peephole.

‘It’s Shaun.’ Stormy mouthed at them. ‘Should I let him in?’

‘No.’ Michael mouthed, shaking his head. He stood up, moving to Stormy, whispering to her. “Not yet. He doesn’t know about Patrick. Let me find somewhere for Patrick to hide.”

With that Patrick and Michael quickly moved, looking for somewhere for him to lay low. They decided the bathroom was the best bet for now, and Patrick leaned against the counter, remaining quiet as Michael left the room and closed the door. Stormy and Michael stood in the main room of the apartment before Michael chose to sit on the couch. Looking natural was probably their best bet. With that, Stormy opened the door, letting Shaun in.

“Hey, Shaun, what’re you doing here?” Stormy asked him. It was strange. He visited Michael rarely and, after their break up, never visited Stormy. This was outside of his normal patterns. She seemed a little angry at him for just showing up.

“I’m here looking for Michael,” Shaun said, looking around and quickly spotting him. He ignored Stormy now, walking over to him. “What the fuck happened in your apartment? What emergency was there? I showed up and a friend of yours was looking around, worried. I was worried. You didn’t call or anything.”

“I’m handling it Shaun, and I don’t know what’s up with my apartment, when I left it was fine. I can take care of myself, I don’t need you to try and keep me on a leash. I knew Stormy could help me out so don’t… wait, a friend?” Michael paused as the words sunk in. As sad as it was to admit outside of Stormy Michael didn’t really have any friends. “Shaun, what was this guy's name? What did he look like?”

“I… I didn’t get a name, but he was wearing a hat and some Hawaiian shirt...” Shaun began to explain. It quickly clicked for Michael that the person Shaun was describing to him was Habit. “I brought him with me to check up on you.”

“You what.” Michael hissed. Quickly he stood up, running to the bathroom and dragging Patrick out. He grabbed Stormy too, and glanced at Shaun. “We have to go now. That’s exactly the person we were trying to avoid, Shaun.”

“What the fuck?” Shaun said, and quickly Michael remembered that Shaun didn’t actually know about the separation yet. “Who the hell is this?”

“It’s Patrick, Shaun. Are you coming with us or not?” Michael said, his fuse short now. Habit could appear at any moment, could kill them all if he wanted to. It was making Michael panic a little, but he channelled that panic into some form of strength. “I can explain more later but we can’t stay here now because you brought Habit here.”  
“No, Michael, fucking explain now,” Shaun demanded. Always demanding at the wrong times. 

“We don’t have-” Michael was interrupted as the lights went out in the apartment, plunging them into darkness. “Time…”

They were all frozen in place, waiting, watching. The lights flickered on slightly before sputtering out again. Patrick was listening carefully as Michael scanned what he could see.

“We need to go now,” Patrick said with a hiss, pulling himself, Michael, and Stormy to the window. He quickly cracked it open, moving out onto the fire escape. Shaun moved to them, trying to grab Michael. All of them froze when someone else in the room chuckled.

“You know, I thought it would be hard to find you.” Habit said as Stormy stepped onto the fire escape, turning and watching Michael and Shaun still in the room whilst Patrick ducked down, hoping to remain unseen by Habit. “But you know, Shaun here made things very easy for me. Didn’t even think something might be up for a fucking second!”

Michael backed towards the window more. Shaun stood between him and Habit. He wasn’t sure what to do. He grabbed Shaun’s arm, trying to pull him back. Habit laughed at him.

“What are you planning to do? Run from me? I don’t even want to fucking hurt you, geez.” Habit lied with a wide grin. Michael wanted out, right then and there, but Shaun was listening to Habit, and wouldn’t budge. As much as Michael and Shaun had their differences, it would be terrible for Michael to leave his brother to fend for himself against Habit. “I’m after that parasite of yours, that tick that dug its way in. You know exactly who I fucking mean right? Well, think of me as the tick remover.”

“You can get rid of the Patrick thing?” Shaun asked, speaking before Michael could, clearly making his own analysis of the situation without even considering Michael’s opinion on the matter. 

“The ‘Patrick Thing’, god, are you dense or ignorant? As much as I hate the guy he isn’t just some fucking… thing that your brother made up. You’d think that would be obvious but, then again you don’t exactly strike me as the sharpest knife in the belt.” Habit said with a laugh. He sat down, continuing to spin some story, knowing he was getting traction with Shaun. Michael let go of his brother’s arm, continuing to back up. He couldn’t stay here. If he did he was going to be killed. “But yes, I can get rid of him, and then you can have your stupid fucking family moment or whatever. Just get out of my fucking way and you can think of yourself as a hero here.”

Shaun nodded, eager. In his mind, all the problems would be fixed once Patrick was gone. Things would be the way they were supposed to be, Michael would need him, not anyone else. Shaun stepped out of the way, but Michael was already out the window, running down the fire escape with Stormy and Patrick. Habit cursed, pushing Shaun out of the way and peering out the window as Michael disappeared around a corner, taking up the rear of the group.

“You let them get away you fucking idiot.” Habit said, pacing in the room. “I should kill you for making my job harder than it has to be, but… I think we can help each other.”

“What?” Shaun asked, confused. Something about this situation felt wrong, but… if this Habit guy was going to help make things right, he couldn’t be all that bad, could he?

“You already know this Patrick guy is bad news, but he is way fucking worse than you think. I know so, I have the evidence. I’ll show you if you make a deal with me, You help me find your fucking brother and the leech, I get rid of the problem, and we all go our separate ways happy as a fucking clam.” Habit said. He gestured with his hands with every word he spoke. He held out his hand to Shaun. “Do we have a deal?”

“Yeah. Deal. I want things to be right.” Shaun said, shaking Habit’s hand.

“Great, let’s get going. There are some documents you really need to see my friend.” Habit said with a laugh, and with that, he teleported the two of them to his house. Shaun stumbled, confused for a moment, but keeping his questions locked up tight, choosing to listen first, ask questions later. Habit pulled out a box labelled ‘Andersen Family Documents.’ A box Shaun was vaguely familiar with from grabbing his birth certificate before handing it off to Michael for him to deal with. It was mostly trash anyway, old photo albums he didn’t care about.

“Where did you get that? That’s my family’s.” Shaun spoke up, not about to let this slide. Seeming to teleport was one thing, there were explanations for that, like a hallucination or something, but this stranger having something that belonged to his brother was weird, especially something so personal. 

“I know. Patrick was trying to get rid of it, trying to fucking hide like the coward he is. You see, he’s been practicing a little bit of identity theft, something he’d rather people fucking forget. You wouldn’t know, no one ever told you about… him.” Habit smiled. From the way, Habit spoke it was clear this mysterious him wasn’t someone mentioned prior. “I think these documents should explain better than I could. Read for yourself. Patrick is manipulating your brother by putting on this facade. By stealing from your family. If I were you, well, I’d want to kill him.”

Shaun read the documents. A look of shock crossing his face, replaced by horror, replaced by anger as he realized what all this meant. He set down the papers, clenching his fist. He looked at Habit.

“Do what I tell you to and all of this shit will be fixed, got it?” Shaun nodded, letting out a tense sigh. “Good. Now, let me introduce you to my other associate. You two play nice with each other. Vinny!”

A dark-haired man with a beard slowly entered the room they were in. He wore glasses, looked incredibly tired, and definitely didn’t want to be here. “What do you want Habit?”

“Vinny we have a new guest. A new helper.” Habit said with a grin. Vinny’s face dropped further. “You show him the ropes, tell him the rules, let him know how this works.”

“I’m sorry.” Was the first thing Vinny said to Shaun, sighing himself. He walked out of the room and Shaun followed him. “You know, whatever he promised you really was not worth it. You’re stuck with him now, and if he lets go it won’t be for your sake. Just… listen to him and it’ll be better for you.”

“What are you talking about?” Shaun said with a laugh. “He’s helping me.”

“I don’t think you realize where you are,” Vinny said, pausing and turning to face Shaun. “So let me explain. Welcome to Hell, enjoy your stay, get on his bad side and he will kill you. I am not lying, I am not joking around. Whatever choice you made, you made the wrong one.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment of relaxation. A plan is formed. Another nightmare haunts. Company is found in an uncomfortable place.

Michael, Patrick, and Stormy had quickly piled into her car with what they had on them, Stormy pulling out and just driving in a random direction. They were all silent, Stormy staring ahead steely-eyed as she drove. After a long time driving, finally, she spoke up. “Where the fuck do we go now? What do we do?”

“I… I don’t know.” Patrick said. He had no plan, no ideas, no nothing. He put his face in his hands. He was thinking. He didn’t know what to do to fix this, didn’t know how to make things better. Everything was a mess, and for all, he knew they had already lost Shaun to Habit. He sighed, looking up. “We go somewhere significant I guess. Somewhere we can get a lead. We find what we need and we take it and figure this out.”

“Alright. That makes sense.” Michael said with a sigh. He thought for a moment, sitting back as Stormy tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, pulling into a gas station. “Where do we go?”

“I’m thinking we go to the clock,” Patrick said. He didn’t like the idea very much. He thought it was dangerous, that someone could get hurt. He didn’t see any other options though. “It’s probably not the safest idea but I don’t think we have many other options. We have to find something.”

“So we need to go to Michael’s old house?” Stormy asked, thinking. “We could make it there in a day or two. Find a motel there and look for this… you said it was a clock?”

“Yeah, it’s important,” Michael said with a sigh. “It does sound a bit silly but it is actually dangerous. Patrick’s right, it could be a lead for us.”

“Alright. Then we’ll find it, figure things out.” Stormy said. She stepped out of the car, stepping to the gas pump. “If you need anything from the gas station get it now.”

Stormy started pumping the gas, turning away from the car. Michael chose to stay in the passenger seat as Patrick got out, heading inside of the gas station. He began looking for water, feeling a bit dehydrated. He was thinking about everything that was happening, how in the span of a few days everything had gone to shit. He sighed, grabbing some water and paying for it at the counter. He walked back out, getting back into the car. Shortly after Stormy returned from paying for the gas, and they were on their way again. 

Around 10:00 pm they stopped at a motel for the night. As much as they wanted to move fast, they all knew driving way too late would be a dangerous move. They checked in, Stormy getting a room for herself with Michael and Patrick opting to share one. Once they had dropped off their things they all met together in one of the rooms to talk. 

“So what’s the plan? Do you know where this clock is?” Stormy asked, sitting next to Michael as they all ate the fast food they picked up on the way. “Is it secret or something?”

“I know where it is,” Patrick said, brushing his hair back with his hand. “It shouldn’t be hard to find, the problem is getting to it. Habit might know where it is and might figure we’re going there. The tall man might incapacitate us before we can make it. We have to approach this carefully and strategically, not let anything happen. I’ve formed a bit of a plan, you two tell me what you think.”

“Alright, I’m sure it’ll be good, let’s hear it,” Michael said.

“Michael and I go into the woods after it. We stick together, and if anything happens or either of us feels like something is going to go wrong we say something and get out. If we end up transported to somewhere different from where we came, you stay here Stormy and we can contact you to help find us.” Patrick explained. “I think it’s the safest way to go about this and not get hurt.”

“Sounds good to me,” Stormy said. She thought for a moment about it, speaking up again. “What do I do if something happens to me while you’re in the woods?”

“You could call us maybe? Get to somewhere else for help and tell us what’s going on?” Michael suggested. She considered it. “We could get some sort of weapon or something for you to keep with you.”

“Alright, I’m fine with that idea.” Stormy decided. She sighed, thinking. “This is crazy. You know that, right? This morning the worst thing that happened was a tough person to deal with at work. Now… all of this.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry for dragging you in… I didn’t think it would go this way. I thought everything would be fine, that we wouldn’t be followed.” Michael said. He closed his eyes for a second, thinking. “If you don’t want to help us you don’t have to. This is a lot, and I know how you feel about Patrick, and if you don’t want to help us that’s ok.”

“I want to help you, Michael,” Stormy said. “If I didn’t want to help you I wouldn’t be here.”

“Alright. If you ever want to bow out you can.” Michael said with a small sigh. “Don’t ever feel like you’re trapped helping us, ok?”

“Michael, if I ever want to leave I’ll tell you. You don’t need to worry so much about me.” Stormy said, laughing slightly. The mood in the room lightened a bit as they all continued to eat. “So do we have anything to do out here? I mean, if we end up out here for a while we should probably find something to do to fill up the time.”

“Can’t we just… sleep?” Patrick asked.

“Sleeping might fill out the night but it won’t fill out the day,” Stormy said, rolling her eyes. “I brought my laptop, I can rent a movie and run it to the TV or something. Maybe Birdemic 2.”

“Oh god, not Birdemic,” Michael said with a laugh, nudging Stormy in the side with his elbow. “That’s literally the worst movie I’ve ever seen.”

“Come on Mikey, this is Birdemic 2, big difference.” Stormy laughed in response. Patrick stood up, throwing the waste from his food in the trash. He moved to the door to the balcony, pausing for a moment. 

“I’m going to get some fresh air. Don’t worry about me.” Patrick said. Before they could respond he was on the balcony, the door shut behind him. He leaned on the railing, sighing, looking out on the streets below. He was thinking, about their current situation, about his personal experience in it, losing his ability to use his powers made him feel incredibly vulnerable, incredibly human, and he hated it. He couldn’t work with this, as much as he hated to admit it. He was powerless in a way he had never been before, and it brought back that feeling from after he had the strange nightmare, the tightness in his chest, the irrationality of his thoughts, the sweatiness of his palms, the feeling as though his throat were closing up. It was overwhelming. Patrick sunk to the concrete floor of the balcony, back pressed against its wall. He buried his head in his hands, just trying to breathe.

Patrick sat there for what felt like hours. He didn’t know what to do either than sit in the same position until he felt alright again, which took a while, and even then he didn’t feel alright, he only felt marginally better than he had when he first sat down on the Balcony. Patrick got to a shaky stand, Breathing again until he was steady. He reentered the room, sitting down on the bed assigned to him. Michael was asleep already, and Stormy was back in her room, connected to theirs by a set of doors across the room. He sighed, realizing he had been out there for quite a while. He laid down, hoping he could just sleep. Hoping it would be dreamless this time. Out of all the things in the current situation, he hated the dreams most. To someone who had never had them before they felt invasive, like something being forced into his subconscious mind by an unseen force.

Unfortunately, again he fell into dreams, but much to his relief these felt benign. At least until he again found himself dreaming in the clearing with the clock. He wanted to rip himself out of the dream the second he saw it, wanted to be away, and out of there. But he couldn’t force himself out, so instead, he chose to approach. When he was within a foot of it a ringing rose in his ears. He stumbled back, feeling like he had been physically pushed away despite being alone. He was in pain, feeling as though his entire existence was rippling and tearing. It went on for what could’ve only been a few minutes, coming to a violent, sudden stop without warning. Patrick fell to his knees, the clock looming above. He felt like he was dying there below it, the pendulum swinging like the sword of Damocles. He slowly got to a stand, his entire body shaking, stumbling forward. He clenched his fist, slamming it into the clock’s face with all the force he could muster. It cracked beneath his hand. Patrick smiled. He kept slamming his hand against the clock face, slowly cracking it over and over, hand growing bloodied as shards of glass came loose. The pain came back, but Patrick pushed through it. He had to destroy the damn clock. 

Finally, he gave it one final hit, smashing the face of it entirely. He paused, breathing heavily. He smiled, laughing as he took in his handiwork. Five seconds passed, and then Patrick felt thrown back with immense force. Out of the void behind where the clock face once was came a shape, a colour out of space and time. An indescribable mass, writhing and twisting, pulsating and moving like a worm. It’s colours shifted across its surface, a surface that couldn’t be described as skin, a surface that was generally as inherently indescribable as the rest of the creature. Beneath the surface, a viscous swirl of colour and light swirled, as though it were a sack full of liquid rather than something of solid mass, but just as soon as that was analyzed it seemed as solid as a brick, moving as heavily as one. It continued to slither, push, and pull itself out of the clock, making a horrible noise that sounded like a beehive bothered too many times, a noise that sounded like a terrified, pained chorus, a noise that sounded like everything, and nothing all at once. Slowly as it protruded out long, spindly limb-like structures made themselves apparent. It used them to pull itself out faster, scrabbling at the ground like a dog trying to escape it’s a leash, like a beetle trying to get off it’s back. Finally, it was free, and its form began to flicker, revealing its facade. A facade Patrick was already familiar with, already knew belonged to the creature. The tall man, true form presented, slowly moved closer to Patrick, wheezing like a dying horse. It reached out its hands, grabbing onto his arms. It felt slimy, scaly, and dry at the same time. Patrick snapped out of his fugue, pulling away from it, kicking and scratching. He pulled himself away, breathing heavily as whispers built in the back of his skull. It didn’t want him here. If he came it would kill him, would kill Michael. It would take them earlier than it intended to this time. The whispers died and one last time the creature approached, lunging out and grabbing Patrick’s head, squeezing tightly around it, staring at him despite the fact it didn’t even have a face. It showed him visions, corpses. People he knew. People he cared about whether they lived or died. It dropped him, moving in a flashback to the clock. Patrick curled in on himself on the ground, shaking. He couldn’t let them die. Not this time. Not any of them. He had to do this right. Finally, he sat up, panicking. His edge only softened slightly when he saw the darkness of the motel room.

Patrick stood up, rubbing his eyes. He was still panicked, heart beating like a rabbit’s foot. He felt choked up, felt terrible in general. He stumbled to the sink, drinking some water before stumbling out onto the balcony again. He leaned over the balcony, head hanging heavy. He was there for a brief moment, before getting startled by Stormy clearing her throat behind him.

“What are you up to out here?” She asked, ever-suspicious with all the grounds to be so. As frustrating as suspicion typically was to him he didn’t find Stormy’s so. Likely because he felt her behaviour justified.

“Trying to breathe properly again,” Patrick replied, his tone flat. “What about you? Why have you chosen this fine balcony tonight?”

“Nightmares.” She admitted with a shrug. “Trying to breathe right again, same as you I guess.”

“Ah. I suppose I can relate.” Patrick said, chuckling despite nothing being funny. Slowly, Stormy moved to beside Patrick, a few feet down from him on the railing. She looked at him quizzically.

“You get nightmares?” Stormy asked, genuinely surprised and curious. “I thought you’d be immune to that sort of thing, considering who you are.”

“I was once, but not anymore I guess,” Patrick said. He looked out towards the horizon, watching the lights around them.

“What were they about?” Stormy asked, curiosity biting her. She knew it wasn’t something you just ask a person, but Patrick himself claimed not to be a person so… it was fine to ask, wasn’t it?

“Michael dying. You dying. Shaun dying.” Patrick began, eyes growing cloudy and distant. “People you may never know being torn apart by something I cannot stop. Being useless, being the last one left, trying to stand, getting ripped apart myself. All of that, happening over and over, different ways of happening, different people, different mistakes, and problems, and roadblocks-”

“Stop,” Stormy said, not for herself. As Patrick spoke he was becoming a bit frenzied with Panic, speaking like lightning. This was weird. She had never seen that sort of behaviour from him before, from what Stormy had seen of him she had doubted for a while he was capable of more than three emotions. “Breathe. Calm down. Don’t tell me anymore.”

“Yes. I understand.” Patrick said, getting his breath under control. He closed his eyes. If she got to ask him, he might as well ask her. “What was yours about?”

“You,” Stormy answered plainly. Patrick nodded.

“I’m sorry,” Patrick answered.

“I believe you. I don’t forgive you but… I believe you’re sorry. I appreciate that.” The two of them grew silent, each avoiding possible eye contact by staring out from the balcony.

“I can go if you want,” Patrick suggested, trying to avoid forcing her to be around him.

“You can stay if you want,” Stormy answered, sighing again. She laughed slightly. “I’m not scared of you awake. I could kick your ass. But… dreams- nightmares do funny things. They make you feel powerless. I’m only scared of you asleep. I might not be your biggest fan but… you don’t scare me anymore.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s… good.” Patrick said. The two grew silent again, and they stayed that way, simply staying within company, even company among acquaintances was better than being alone.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the perspective of Shaun, for better or for worse.

Shaun had been in the house for less than a day and he already hated it there. Vinny had made it pretty clear that this was not a good place for him to be. Shaun however did appreciate that Vinny was answering his questions, explaining things to him that he hadn’t thought to ask sooner. He now knew three things. One, Habit was some sort of demon. Two, Shaun was very likely to die here if he were no longer useful or interesting. Three, He had to become a yes man or bad things would happen to him. He couldn’t believe he was in this situation. None of this would’ve happened if Michael had stayed with him when Habit showed up. They could’ve worked together and gotten rid of Patrick and then everything would be the way it was meant to be. Shaun had been thinking about that day since it happened, about everything he had learned. That was when he remembered the stranger that had been with Michael and Stormy in Stormy’s apartment. The one Michael had briefly brushed off as being Patrick, which, to Shaun, didn’t make any sense. Shaun knew that Michael could be… delusional sometimes. What Habit had revealed to him when he first arrived, what Patrick had been trying to hide, was blatant evidence of how easy it was for Patrick to slip Michael into these false realities. While Shaun couldn’t explain who that stranger was yet, there was no doubt he was bad news if he was, presumably, in cahoots with Patrick. 

Shaun sighed, thinking about what to do next. He wasn’t allowed to leave the house, not without permission at least, meaning he couldn’t warn Michael in person about what was happening. He had tried to call Michael but a cool, robotic voice from the service provider had informed him he had been blocked, probably by Patrick. It would be just like that guy to preemptively block him from contacting Michael after making Michael leave him behind at Stormy’s apartment. Hell, he’d probably threaten Stormy into blocking him too if she hadn’t already blocked him after they broke up. Shaun was backed into a corner, facing off against two forces that seemed happy to tear him to pieces at the slightest failure on his part. He couldn’t fail. He had to save Michael. Had to save Stormy, had to save himself. He would be the hero here. He would show them all that he was right, that they were wrong to brush him off and leave him behind. All he wanted to do was help them. All he had ever wanted to do was help. He stood up, planning to go to Vinny to ask some questions, figure something out and see what he could do to escape. 

Instead, he jumped, startled. At some point, while he was lost in thought, Habit had found his way into the room Shaun occupied. He stood there with a grin on his face, waiting. Shaun was silent for a second, thinking before he spoke. “What do you want?”

At that Habit laughed. “What do I want? Geez, no hello? Where are your fucking manners?” Shaun shrunk back slightly, which cause Habit to laugh more. “God, calm the fuck down. I have a job for you, something simple. I’m sure you can fucking figure it out.”

“What is it?” Shaun asked, stepping closer. His body tensed, and he put on a brave face, trying to look stronger than he felt in his current situation, one where he had made a mistake and put himself at a serious disadvantage. He was dealing with a demon for fucks sake, something he would’ve avoided if he had bothered to ask a question or two before shaking his hand. “What do you need me to do?”

“Simple. I need you to have a chat with your brother, tell him what I told you. Now, I don’t know where they are right now. Figuring that shit out is up to you, but I’m going to make the job slightly easier for you.” Habit said. He reached into the pocket of his jacket, picking out something small and tossing it to Shaun, who fumbled it slightly before gripping it carefully. A burner flip-phone. This would help. “Now, another bonus for you. You should consider yourself a very lucky man you know, not every fucking person helping me out gets this kind of… opportunity. I am going to let you do this alone. I will not follow, I will not interfere. You have three days. I expect you to call me by the end of the third day and tell me where the fuck they are, what they’re up to, and make sure they don’t know about our deal. If you can do that then you and Michael can be… reunited. You got that?”

Shaun nodded. This was perfect. Almost too perfect. He narrowed his eyes, thinking. “And Patrick will be dead? Gone for good?”

“I’ll tear him out and gut him like a fish. Don’t you fucking worry about that.” Habit grinned. Almost every time the demon spoke Shaun grew intensely uncomfortable. “Now, I think it’s time you get a move on. I’ll drop you where I found you, make it a bit fucking easier but after that no more hand-holding. I’m too fucking busy to deal with you crying at me if you get lost.”

“Don’t worry. This is something I can handle, easy. I’ll get this done.” Shaun said, feeling a bit relieved now. He’d be free very soon, something that, from Vinny’s claims that he’d have to die to be free and even that might not work, he had begun to doubt he’d achieve. 

“Good, good. Now, one more thing…” Habit moved closer, placing a hand on Shaun’s shoulder. Shaun wanted to cringe, pull away. The demon smelled like rot, almost overpowering, and even without the smell, he was very uncomfortable to be around. Before Shaun even processed what was going on, Habit had done a quick movement with his hand, a butterfly knife unfolding and quickly pressed into his throat. “If you fuck this up... if you try to run... if you try to help them… I can guarantee I will fucking find you and kill you in the most painful way you can fucking imagine. Then, I will go after the rest of them and each time it will be fucking worse. Good luck, have fun, and play fucking nice.”

Before Shaun could respond he felt like he was stumbling. The next thing he knew he was alone in Stormy’s apartment. He breathed shallow and fast, nervous. He didn’t think that this was going to be life or death. He thought if he messed up… he’d just get a second chance. He didn’t think messing up meant he and everyone he cared about was going to die, which… maybe he should’ve based on what Vinny had said. He huffed, pulling out the flip phone. He’d have to work fast on this, find them quickly and get to work on telling Michael what he knew. He typed in Michael’s phone number and lifted it to his ear, waiting.

“... Hello?” Michael said on the other end, clearly confused by the unknown caller. “Who is this?”

“Michael, it’s me, Shaun.” He responded, pausing very briefly before continuing. “I need your help. I got away from that Habit guy but he’s still after me now. He’s after you too, right? We should work together. Me you and Stormy and… Patrick.”

“And Patrick? You’d work with him?” Michael asked, genuine confusion etching into his voice.

“I think I’ve seen what you see with him. How he isn’t as bad of a guy as I always thought he was.” Shaun said, continuing to lie. This would all be worth it. When Michael was out of this… brainwashing Patrick had done to him, Michael would understand Shaun’s lies, would agree that they were necessary. “At least now that I’ve seen what this Habit guy is like I mean- he’s a fucking demon Michael and… I can’t do this alone. We all need to work together if we’re going to get out of this in one piece. Just… tell me where you are and I’ll find you guys, and we can make a plan and figure this out.”

“Alright. I trust you, Shaun, you know that I mean… you’re my brother.” Michael said a rationalization he always made when it came to Shaun. One neither of them really noticed. No matter how many times Shaun’s actions hurt Michael he would always trust him, always take his word, because they were brothers. Likely because he wanted the same reaction from Shaun, wanted Shaun to still trust him despite the problems and hurt he himself had caused him. Something neither of them would consciously pick up on. “We’re at a motel, we’re heading home, there’s something we need to find, I’m not sure if you remember it but… there’s this clock. We need to find it, it’ll fix everything.”

“Alright. Text the address to me and I’ll meet you there tonight. We’ll make everything ok again. Everything’ll be right.” Shaun said. Michael laughed a little on the other end.

“Yeah, we will. See you soon Shaun.” Michael finished.

“See you soon Michael,” Shaun replied. They both hung up, and instantly Shaun frowned. Whatever plan they currently had couldn’t be good. There was no doubt Patrick was pulling the strings, which likely meant this was the worst possible way they could try to fix things. Patrick was probably going to trick them, bring them to this clock and hurt them in some way to benefit himself and him alone. Shaun grimaced. He’d have to hurry. He needed to put a stop to this before it went too far.

\------------------------------

By the time Shaun got to the motel, Michael had sent him the address to it was already dark out, and he was exhausted. He double-checked he was in the right place, just about ready to start cursing if he found out he had messed up. He sighed when he saw it was correct. Shaun got out of his car, carrying a backpack he had grabbed from his own place on the way. He made his way up to the second floor, locating the room number Michael had given him. Michael opened the door with a smile, letting Shaun into the room. “Hey Shaun, how was your drive?”

“It was fine, I’m tired but, could be worse,” Shaun said with a shrug. He set his bag on the floor next to the door, sighing. “Where’s Stormy?”

“She went to the McDonalds across the street with Patrick to get some dinner for all of us. She… didn’t want to be here when you got here. She said it was nothing personal.” Michael tacked onto the end, unsure of how honest that claim was as she hadn’t actually said it. “They should be back any minute now, in the meantime get comfortable and… well we can just chat.”

“What do you mean she’s with Patrick?” Shaun said with a small, awkward laugh. “Come on Michael we both know Patrick’s just in your head and besides, even if he wasn’t… you wouldn’t leave him alone with Stormy.”

“I thought you said you were going to work with us. All of us. Patrick included.” Michael said, narrowing his eyes. “If you fucking lied just so I’d give you the address you can leave, you know.”

“Just because I’m going to work with him doesn’t mean I have to trust him,” Shaun said, voice tense. “And you didn’t answer my first question. Patrick’s in your head, right? We both know that, and I trusted you when you said you were taking your-”

“I have been taking my meds, Shaun, I wouldn’t fucking lie about that right now.” Michael snapped at him, clearly angry that so far his brother was showing no effort to change how he usually acted to even try and play nice and actually help for once, rather than fight to be the leader every step of the way. “Just- stop. You don’t need to an asshole. I could’ve hung up as soon as you said your name. I wanted to, but I didn’t, and now you’re here so you have to play by our rules. I’ll answer all your questions it’ll just… be easier to explain when everyone is here.”

“Micheal we can’t trust Patrick. Whatever he’s doing to make you so… delusional right now, it isn’t ok. There’s something you need to know…” Shaun said, preparing to drop the bombshell of information that he knew, the information that would unite Michael and him against their real enemy here. Instead of listening to him as Shaun expected, Michael scoffed.

“I’m not delusional, Shaun. This isn’t a delusion. This is… exactly like you. I don’t know why I always expect something different.” Michael said angrily. “Now get your bullshit over with so we can move on and actually fix things.”

“I… fine,” Shaun said, choosing to cut to the chase instead of arguing this time. “Patrick isn’t Patrick. The real Patrick-”

“That’s ridiculous.” Michael interrupted, not even wanting to entertain whatever crackpot theory Shaun had come up with. “Shaun just… shut up for once. I’m tired of you not listening to me, not trusting me like I try to do with you. Just trust me when I say we can trust Patrick. He’s helping us.”

“But Michael-” Shaun began to try and speak again but was interrupted once more by the door to the motel room opening. In came Stormy and the stranger from Stormy’s apartment who, now that Shaun was paying attention, did bear a striking resemblance to Michael, and did dress similar to Patrick, but that had to be an incredibly bizarre coincidence. Stormy looked at him awkwardly, her expression half glare, half something else. The stranger meanwhile gave a tight-lipped, awkward smile, stepping forward with an extended hand. Shaun took it. “Uh, Hi.”

“Hello. I assume you already know who I am. I mean, I know you, Shaun.” Patrick said to him. “We have plenty to discuss. I imagine you want answers.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unravelling.  
> \-----------  
> implied death of child/infant cw.

Patrick had explained the situation to Shaun, who was less than trusting. He had too many questions, he always had far too many questions. It was annoying, and Patrick was getting tired of it. “Listen, Shaun, I understand you’re having trouble getting this, but this has gone on for too long. We’re losing light, which is something we really need.” 

“If we end up in there after dark we might as well lay down in the dirt and let it take us,” Patrick said with an annoyed sigh, tapping his fingers on his temple. “Our chances of survival would be just as good.”

“Are you serious? Do you expect me to just… trust you without you answering my questions?” Shaun said with a laugh. Michael glared at him from the other side of the room, but Shaun didn’t notice his brother’s annoyance. “I mean- I’m not doing this until you answer me.”

“Then have fun staying here! Glad we’ve reached a compromise.” Patrick said, throwing his hands up in the air, letting the fall roughly to his sides. He turned, fiddling with a backpack, filling it with things he had bought that they may need. “I don’t expect you to trust me, Shaun. Hell, Stormy doesn’t trust me and she’s still trying to help instead of being a pain in the ass like you’ve always been.”

“I am not a pain in the ass-” Shaun began to speak but was quickly silenced as Michael spoke out.

“Would you two just shut up? We need to focus on fixing things, not fighting petty battles over questions. Shaun, you can ask whatever you want when we get back, Patrick stop riling him up.” He said, clearly tired of the fighting. He stalked to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. Shaun picked at the sleeve of his sweater. Patrick continued to pack. Stormy sat in a chair in the corner of the room, scrolling through her phone. The silence was deafening. After a few moments, Michael returned, calmer than he had been when he sequestered himself in the other room. “Are we ready to go?”

“We are,” Patrick replied, zipping the bag and throwing it over his shoulder. He paused, glancing at Shaun. “So are you coming or are you staying here?”

Shaun paused, thinking. His task from Habit had been to bring him Patrick’s location in three days. He hadn’t known Patrick was actually already separated from Michael at that point. That made things easier. He could call in, Habit could get Patrick, and he could leave with Michael and Stormy. He’d be their hero, he’d have helped them from whatever Patrick was planning. It was clear they were being manipulated from how easily they listened to him. It never crossed his mind that Patrick had done what he could to be kind to them, to help them. In his mind Patrick would be nothing more than the monster in his brother’s head, a monster he would always either blame on Michael or a monster he’d claim he was fighting for the greater good while doing nothing of genuine use. Deep in the woods, it would hopefully be easier to ‘wander off’, to call Habit and tell him he had found Patrick, that he could come and fix things. “I’m coming, I’ll help.”

“Thanks, Shaun,” Michael said, patting Shaun on the shoulder as he stepped by him and out the door of the motel room. Stormy glanced at Shaun as she followed Michael, a relieved expression on her face that she likely didn’t mean for him to see. He took it as her being thankful he was there to keep them safe. In reality, she was glad they had finally stopped arguing and Shaun had decided to close his mouth and not drag his feet for once. Shaun followed them out into the hall, followed by Patrick who closed and locked the doors behind him.

It didn’t take long at all to travel through the town to the site of Michael and Shaun’s childhood home, a home long abandoned by them and everyone else. It sat, vacant, windows facing the street like dark, gaping eyes rimmed with shattered glass. The front door hung slightly on its hinge, revealing a darkened interior but not much else from a distance. At some point, someone had broken in. None of them paid it much mind. They weren’t there for the house. They were there for the clock. Still, it filled Shaun with a certain sense of sadness, whilst Michael felt a mild amount of closure. The house had been a very different environment for each of them. Each had their reason to remember it fondly or regard it with a sense of hate. A cold and empty house could mean a myriad of things for a myriad of people. Now was the time to move on. 

Patrick led the group through the trees behind the house, Michael pulling from memory to try and guide them right. They had already stumbled into the wrong clearings, sometimes feeling as though they had found themselves in the same one more than once. There was an uncomfortable buzz in the air, and a distinct sense of dread starting to set in. These were woods haunted, every person in the group knew the monster that roamed here, knew what it could easily do to them. Shaun trailed at the rear behind Stormy, thinking, looking for an opportunity to break away and make it look like he had gotten lost. 

The next thing he knew Shaun didn’t need to find an out himself. An out had found him, and the others were gone. He was alone in the woods, the low buzz still present, the sense of dread gone. It had taken them. A lump formed in Shaun’s throat. Patrick had led them into a trap, he had known it, he had been working with that thing this whole time. He pulled out the phone Habit had given him, dialling the number. “They’re in these woods with me. I don’t know exactly where, we got separated, but they’ll be easy to find, and then you can get him. Best of all-”

“Don’t tell me the details.” Habit said with a laugh. “You did good, finding them with two days to spare. I’ll be around there soon. You work to find the fuckers. I’ll do the rest.”

Habit hung up before Shaun could respond to him. With a clack Shaun shut the phone, shoving it in his pocket. His breath came out in a cloud of steam, and slowly the sky began to dance with snowflakes. It would get colder out here very quickly. He wanted this to be over with already, to just go home and make things better. Shaun began to walk, hoping he would find the others quickly. 

On the other side of the forest, Stormy was running. She was alone, her phone signal dead. She didn’t know what she was hoping to find, Michale, Shaun, A road, hell she’d be happy to see Patrick here. Just not that thing, anything but that thing that had pulled her away from the group and dropped her somewhere else. Her mind ached, her lungs felt like they were being stabbed by the cold air. She couldn’t stop. She couldn’t let it catch her. She closed her eyes briefly, paused, and called out for her friend. “Michael!”

Elsewhere in the wood, Michael heard someone call his name, distant. He had no idea if his mind was playing tricks on him, or if he had actually heard someone call his name. He was hesitant, nervous, unsure if he should go to it or if he should stay where he was, wait for someone to find him. He didn’t want to run into a trick from the tall man or some other force. Finally, he decided, taking a deep breath in the direction he had heard the call. He stopped when he heard his name from a different direction. Now he was confused. Then, it only got worse. From every direction, at different intervals and volumes, his name was called, over and over again. The buzz in the air rose as Michael turned in a circle, trying to figure out if any of the calls were real. He needed to know Stormy or Shaun or Patrick needed his help. As the buzz reached a fever pitch his head started to ache, as if someone had cleaved into it. He fell to his knees, clutching his skull. It felt like his brain felt like it was being torn into pieces. He screamed. The calls, the buzzing, the pain, it all continued as he buried his head into the ground, positioning himself like a turtle curled in.

Patrick had found the clock. He didn’t want to be there without the others. At the very least he needed to find Michael and bring him here. Had to fix everything, get his powers back, get everyone out of the woods and to safety. He hoped this wouldn’t turn into a great mistake. Patrick picked a random direction, running out of the clearing with the clock. Moments after he left, Shaun stumbled in, mind racing. The thing had shown up, had attacked him in some way, and then had disappeared. He wondered if it was tormenting one of the others now. He hoped it was after Patrick. He paused in the clearing, catching his breath. He didn’t even notice the clock as he slid to the ground, closing his eyes. He’d rest for a few seconds, then he’d grab Stormy and Michael and they’d get out of there.

The thing had finally left him alone, most of the voices receding. One still rang out at various intervals, and Michael followed that like a guiding star. He grew hopeful as the voice grew louder and clearer, and quickly he realized it was Stormy. He was running, eyes scanning the trees as he moved. Finally, she came into view. “Stormy!”

“Michael!” She ran towards him, and they hugged each other tightly, thankful to be reunited. From here they didn’t know exactly what to do. They had to get to safety, but they couldn’t leave the others behind. Stormy grabbed Michael’s hand, holding it like a vice grip. “If we get separated again one of us will notice.”

“Good idea Stormy,” Michael said, thinking. He had run in a straight line from where he had started, and if Stormy had done the same maybe the others would be on their intersecting axis. They just had to pick a direction. Michael breathed in, chose one, and started to run. Periodically they’d call out Patrick and Shaun’s names, hoping they’d respond or locate them. Instead after what felt like ages they stumbled into a clearing. The clearing with the clock. Shaun was there, he jumped when the two of them arrived, but quickly grew relieved. “Shaun! I’m glad to see you.”

“I’m glad to see you two too,” Shaun said. “Now let’s get out of here.”

“Where’s Patrick?” Michael asked, not wanting to abandon him here especially when he was likely looking for them. “I’m not leaving him behind here.”

“Let’s just go, Michael. Don’t worry about him.” Shaun said as Michael dropped Stormy’s hand now that they were grouped together again. Michael drew his lips into a tight line as Shaun spoke. “He’s manipulating you, this is an escape, let’s just go.”

“I’m not leaving without him, Shaun. He’s done nothing to manipulate any of us.” Michael said. He stepped forward, standing his ground. “I’m not leaving until we’re all leaving, but you’re free to go if you want.”

“Michael you don’t understand what I found out about him!” Shaun said, voice rising. “I can tell you, but we should get out of here before someone gets hurt!”

“Whatever bullshit you have to say you can drop it. If you want to go you can go, Stormy can go with you if she wants, but I’m staying here.” Michael huffed. “I’m not leaving until Patrick is here too.”

“I’m staying with Michael,” Stormy interjected. “I don’t like Patrick, but I’m not leaving him behind either.”

“He’s- you guys are delusional!” Shaun shouted out, upset. He paused, breathing in deep. “Just let me tell you what I know. Then you guys can decide if you want to come with me. If you want to leave him behind.”

“Fine,” Michael said. Stormy crossed her arms. Both of them were clearly upset with Shaun, but he ignored it. They’d be on his side soon enough. What Patrick was doing- what this thief was doing, it was awful.

“Patrick isn’t Patrick, Michael,” Shaun said, quickly moving onto the next point, not allowing himself to be interrupted. He pulled the paper out, the paper Habit had given him. “Have you ever wondered why he’s always called himself an Andersen when he’s not? Why he’s always so cagey when it comes to talking about family history?”

“All the reasoning is here. Patrick Andersen is an identity he stole, Michael. A skin he’s been wearing to make himself more trustworthy or something, I don’t know.” Shaun said. “The real Patrick Andersen is dead. Always has been.”

Michael took the paper, unfolding it. It was medical, that was clear enough from the letterhead. Some sort of record from a birth with complications. He read through it, his eyes scanning the page, words bouncing out at him. Quickly he realized two things. One, he was once part of a pair, but the twin had died early on. He’d have to read through the paper again, really take it in. Right now he was too confused and worried. The second thing he realized was the name the twin was meant to have. Patrick. A name Michael was familiar with for a very different reason. It caused so much to click, why Patrick looked so similar and yet different in ways to him now that they were separated. Why he never left Michael. Why he was so secretive about the past. He had stolen the identity of Michael’s dead twin. It could even explain the dreams, something hidden in his mind, maybe even the knowledge of this, or an old cycle where the twin had survived seeping in. 

Patrick had stepped into the clearing as Shaun had been speaking and quickly realized Shaun had somehow figured out the secret Patrick had been trying to hide. He quickly realized Michael had come to the conclusion as well. That wasn’t what worried him. What worried him was how Shaun figured it out. Habit had the box which carried the only evidence, which could only mean…

“We have to go now,” Patrick said, his voice stern. Michael turned, facing him, eyes wide. “Habit’s on his way. Shaun’s working with him.”

“What? How did you know that?” Shaun retorted, causing Michael to turn with wider eyes.

“What the fuck is going on?” Stormy said through grit teeth, looking between the two of them. Neither answered her.

“Well, Shaun I didn’t know for sure but thank you as always for confirming you backstabbing scumbag,” Patrick said, a scowl on his face. “Come on Michael and Stormy. Shaun’ll be fine. Habit wants us and will keep him in play if it means he can bait us in.”  
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me any of this?” Shaun said, the paper in his hand. He was shaking, angry, confused, worried. So much had been revealed in the last five minutes. He was struggling to process. “Why did you- you stole the identity of a dead kid.”

“I know,” Patrick said quietly.

“That’s- it’s fucked up Patrick. Should I even call you that? I don’t even know- I’m so confused.” Michael said, rubbing his face. There was a buzz rising in the air again. “How could you keep this from me? How could you even do it in the first place? I… fuck.”

“We need to get out of here. Now.” Michael finally said, snapping back to the present. The buzz was getting too much. “I… Stormy, are you going with me?”

Stormy paused. She wasn’t sure. What they had just learned about Patrick was a lot, and what Shaun had done selling them out to Habit… she stopped. They could figure it out on their own. “Let’s go.”

With that before anything else could be said Stormy and Michael had run, disappearing into the dark and snow and trees. Patrick stood, running a hand through his hair. “Why the fuck did you tell him.”

“I can’t just let you use that identity to manipulate him!” Shaun shouted. Patrick laughed in response. 

“You think I was using it to manipulate him. You always think I’m just manipulating, and it’s getting on my nerves, Shaun.” Patrick said. He folded his hands together, thinking. “We have to get out of here. Because of you, Habit is coming. We have to avoid it too.”

“Why do you think I’d go with you?” Shaun asked, folding his arms.

“Because if I escape and you’re still in these woods both Habit and the tall man will be on your tail,” Patrick said through grit teeth. “Take an olive branch when it’s extended to you for once in your fucking life.”

“I…” Shaun trailed off. Patrick was right, as much as Shaun didn’t want to admit it. “Fine.”

“Great, and along the way maybe I can explain I didn’t have any motive behind using that identity,” Patrick said, leading the way through the trees, Shaun trailing behind. “I latched onto the first identity I found. No thought was put into it. That’s what inhuman things do, Shaun. They latch onto the first identity they find.”

“Then you’ve had other identities before? Why didn’t you stick with those.” Shaun said with a scoff. “I mean, aren’t you supposed to be centuries old or something?”

“I don’t know,” Patrick mumbled. It was the truth. He didn’t know. He couldn’t recall any prior identities which was strange, considering Shaun was right for once. It was one thing for a sibling to appear in one cycle uninvolved. It was a fraction of a percent that they’d appear more than that. Patrick couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t been Patrick, which… thinking about it he only found paradoxical solutions. He’d unravel that later. “Let’s just hurry up and get out of here.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Access to power in an attempt to self-reassure within Group A. Regrets are had by Group B.

Patrick would like to be with anyone else, anyone at all on a good day. Knowing Shaun had stabbed them in the back- had chosen to sell them out to Habit, putting all of them in danger. He would make that very clear when they were out of the woods, literally and figuratively. Right now though Patrick was more mentally concerned with Michael. He was confused himself the more he thought about the situation. Every time he thought about how it had even come about it only presented more questions. Patrick had been around for a long time, remembered every cycle he lived, should know exactly the point he took the identity he currently used from someone who should, at this point, be long dead. Someone who shouldn’t have any form of modern representation through the paperwork, someone who shouldn’t exist in this cycle. If they had been dead when Patrick took their identity that meant they’d be uninvolved in the cycles. They couldn't happen again, to exist again in any capacity. Logically, Patrick should’ve had nothing to hide. Lost in thought, he almost tripped, catching the attention of Shaun.

“This is your fault, could you at least focus on running until we get out of here?” Shaun said with a scoff, starting to get out of breath. It felt like they had been running in circles for hours, and Shaun was getting tired of it considering who he was trapped with. 

“This is my fault?” Patrick snapped, breaking out of his deep thought. “How is this my fault?”

“You were the one trying to sacrifice us or whatever! You were the one trying to betray everyone!” Shaun said loudly, angry. “You’ve been the problem this entire time!”

“I’ve been the problem? I was sacrificing everyone? I was betraying everyone?” Patrick said with a sarcastic laugh. “That’s rich coming from you after the shit you pulled. Do you even hear yourself sometimes? Do you ever consider, maybe I’m not the real bad guy?”

Patrick stopped moving, as did Shaun. Both of them were angry, each for their own reasons, at the other. Patrick ran a hand loosely through his hair. He was developing a stress habit. He’d have to break it at some point. “You’re the one who sold us out to Habit, the one who made a deal with him in the first place. All his life- you’ve been the one hurting Michael. You’re the reason he was in that hospital.”

“That was your fault!” Shaun reported, his voice sharp. “And I only sided with Habit because he said he’d get rid of you!”

“You’re the one that lied Shaun, you’re the one that refused to help him when he needed you, and the only time you try to help now is when you think it’ll make you look like the hero.” Patrick hissed, pushing Shaun away slightly. “I’ve been helping him. I’ve been here for him for no reason other than I am here, and helping is the right thing to fucking do. I’m not trying to be the hero, Shaun. I don’t need to feed my ego like a fucking pet. That’s what you do. So fuck off and think about the consequences of your own actions without shoving them off onto someone else like you always do.”

Patrick’s hands were balled into fists. He felt like yelling some more, outlining every shitty thing Shaun had done across as many times as Patrick felt like recalling, and from Shaun’s expression it was clear he wanted to say something in response, but their conversation was interrupted as a distinct voice rang out through the woods.

“I know you’re here.” Habit shouted with a laugh. “Maybe if you come out I’ll gut you a bit faster than I usually would. Maybe not. Your choice.”

“Shit,” Patrick said under his breath. He launched into thought, trying to figure a way out of the situation they had been put into. Habit’s laugh continued to ring out in the wood. He had to think fast. Then it hit him. “The house. We can hide there for a while and walk back to the motel when we think it’s safe.”

“Why not just go straight to the car?” Shaun said smugly, arms crossed.

“They won’t have waited for us,” Patrick said. “They’re shocked for multiple reasons, what I did, and what you did. They’re hardly thinking about what leaving meant for us. They’re upset, maybe even angry. The car isn’t there.”

“That’s shitty of them,” Shaun said, smug expression falling.

“You know what else is shitty?” Patrick said, starting to move in what he felt was the right direction. Shaun followed behind, glancing around, clearly nervous about the situation. “Selling us out to Habit.”

“I get it, you’re pissy I sided with the other bad guy,” Shaun responded. Patrick could at least find solace in the fact Shaun knew Habit was bad.

“I’m pissy you sided with the guy who wants to kill all of us for fun, Shaun. I’m pissy you signed our death warrant to feed your hero complex, Shaun. I’m pissy about a lot of things. Those things are a lot more complicated than you siding with the bad guy.”

Shaun grew quiet, following Patrick in silence. The only things that broke it were the taunts and laughter of Habit, always coming from elsewhere in the woods. Patrick hoped deeply that Michael and Stormy had gotten out before Habit’s arrival. It didn’t take much longer for them to break out from the trees, ending up exactly where they needed to be, the backyard of the old, empty house. Quickly they moved to the back doors, luckily unlocked. Briefly, Patrick wondered if this was a trap. Quickly he decided at this point it would be worth the risk, pushing into the house. It was empty, what little furniture remained draped with white sheets. Some photo frames remained on the wall, most empty, some still containing photographs. Some he recognized, some he didn’t. Trash and dust covered the floor, and walls were covered in dents, bumps, and holes. Patrick guided Shaun through the house, a place he more than remembered even in its current skeletal state. Up the stairs they went into a small bedroom, incredibly intact despite the abandonment. Patrick sat down in the corner, Shaun shutting the door and sitting in front of it. 

“What now?” Shaun asked, sighing. He knew they weren’t exactly safe here, that Habit was a danger and… he felt bad. It had been hammered in, as much as he wanted to pretend it wasn’t, that the current danger was his fault. “Do we just… sit here?”

“You’re going to just sit here,” Patrick said with a sigh. He had to figure out what was going on. “I’m going to try and access one of my powers to figure something out.”

“What do you mean try?” Shaun asked.

“It means none of them have been working but I’m hoping I can use one I haven’t tried to figure something out,” Patrick explained with a sigh. “I’m going to be asleep if it works. If anything goes down, wake me up. I am trusting you, Shaun, when I really don’t want to.”

“Gee thanks,” Shaun said, rolling his eyes.

“I’m serious, Shaun. You are not someone I trust, but I’m getting over that to figure out something else. Don’t fuck that up.” Patrick hissed. Shaun paused, nodding quietly. “Thank you.”  
With that Patrick closed his eyes and focused. He pushed his mind back, an action he took forward and backwards whenever he needed a glimpse of the past or future. In a sense, it was time travel, comparable to astral projecting into the past or future. Future was more complicated, probability branching out like a tree, the present forcing all the branches into one limb that branched out again in an endless algorithm. The past was more linear, operating on a timeline. Patrick couldn’t actually affect events. He could participate in the present but not the past or future. Thus the past couldn’t be changed and the future could only be predicted through the lens of likeliness. Patrick pushed his mind back, eyes still closed, as far as he could. As much as he travelled he tended to peer into the future and had never actually tried to see if he had a limit back. He had always known he’d been timeless. Part of his nature as an inhuman thing. He had seen no point in testing for limits that shouldn’t exist. So he pushed his mind, partially to occupy time, to reassure himself of his state in the universe. If he met a wall, he’d have to evaluate a lot of things. But he wouldn’t meet a wall, he was sure. So he sat, and he pushed, and Shaun watched as his body slept, alert to even the smallest noise, jumping at the slightest creak of the empty house. He was very confused as to what was going on, and slowly was becoming more aware that truly he knew very little about the current situation, and he hated that shaky feeling. He had convinced himself of a certain view of reality, was still convinced of it, even as the basis of it started to crumble. If Patrick had really wanted to just cause pain he could simply stride across the room and kill Shaun right there. But he didn’t. He did something that incapacitated himself, which he had made clear he didn’t entirely trust Shaun and didn’t entirely want to do it at the mercy of him.

That was when something clicked in Shaun’s mind. Patrick had put himself at Shaun’s mercy, had made himself vulnerable. Shaun didn’t process it entirely there but his mind filed it away for the future. It was a piece of knowledge that felt very important. 

Meanwhile, in a motel room across town, Michael laid face down on a bed, thinking. Had he made the right choice? No, probably not, if the guilt eating him from the inside out was indication enough. He was running through all the events of the night in his mind, trying to detangle them. Shaun had sold them out to Habit for… information? The promise that Patrick would be gone? Michael couldn’t be sure but he knew whatever Shaun had been offered couldn’t have been worth it. Michael felt lied to. For once he felt like Shaun actually wanted to help, but clearly, that wasn’t the case. It had been a trick for Shaun to further his own goals. Then there was what Shaun had presented about Patrick. It was hard to believe. No one had ever told him about a twin before. Especially with the information likely being given to Shaun by Habit, it wasn’t something he was about to take at face value due to the lies Habit had told before. He shouldn’t have reacted so quickly. He should’ve made sure they were with them too. He left them behind and now they could be dead for all he knew. He sat up, sighing. “We should go back, try and find them. It wasn’t a good idea to leave them behind.”

“No, you’re right. I feel… really guilty.” Stormy responded, sitting on the other bed. Both of them had been in the room in complete silence since they got back an hour ago. “As hurt as I felt it was equally fucked of us to just leave them behind.”

“Yeah…” Michael breathed in, sighing heavily. He stood up, grabbing his bag from a counter across the room. He hummed, lips drawn into a thin line. He nodded, zipping the bag up and throwing it over his shoulder. He opened the door, Stormy walking out past him. He closed it behind him with a sigh. “Let’s get going.”

“What should we do if we encounter Habit? I have a pocket knife but…” Stormy sighed as they walked down the hall, thinking. “I don’t think that would do much to him.”

“Don’t worry, I have something we can use,” Michael said quietly as they walked. He had gotten it the first night in town, thinking it would be a good idea to arm themselves better. He hadn’t told anyone else what he had gotten. “We’ll find them, and we’ll get out of there, and we won’t have to worry about anything.”

“Yeah, we can do it,” Stormy said with a sigh. “We can do this.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A return to the woods. Discovery of a large size.

While Michael and Stormy searched the now vacant woods, Shaun still sat with his back against the door to the small room, eyes on Patrick as he slept. Shaun was starting to wonder if Patrick was really doing something related to time travel, or if he had taken the opportunity to catch up on lost sleep. Shaun thought time travel would have more pizzaz to it, some disappearing like Patrick was prone to, maybe some flashing and stuff. Something to signify that something was going on. Shaun’s last expectation of time travel was taking a power nap on the floor. Shaun was learning a lot of things. He glanced out the window, the sun starting to rise now. He didn’t know how long they’d been there for, and just as he was wondering when to wake up Patrick and leave, Patrick rose from his rest, gasping for air as a man drowned would. 

“What’s going on?” Shaun asked, startled out of his boredom. Patrick ran a hand through his hair, looking around the room wild-eyed. Patrick stared at Shaun for a moment, gears turning in his mind. He was hyperventilating. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“Shaun…” Patrick trailed, gesturing generally in the direction of the other man. “Yes, that’s right. This is the right place. I remember now.”

“What do you mean you remember now?” Shaun asked, getting himself off the floor. Patrick did the same, transferring himself to the wooden bed frame beside him, sitting on the edge. “Is something going on?”

“I’m forgetting. Old cycles are slipping. This is wrong.” Patrick said, looking genuinely frightened, shaken to his core. “I keep the memories, this shouldn’t be happening I… I hit a wall.”

“What does that mean exactly?” Shaun asked, not entirely sure of the meaning of a wall in the context of time.

“A definite point. An origin point.” Patrick began to ramble. “A point of origin for myself, something that shouldn’t logically exist. Shouldn’t be as relatively recent as it is. There’s something deeply wrong here Shaun, and I can’t access any memories around the wall, and what I can access is fading,”

“Well when is the wall?” Shaun said with arms crossed, still a bit confused but following well enough. He wasn’t entirely sure of what this all meant for everything. “I mean, you said relatively soon right?”

“1952,” Patrick answered. He stared at the floor now, eyebrow furrowed, eyes closed. He was thinking. “I’m supposed to be timeless, I am timeless, there shouldn’t be an origin point, let alone an origin point in the last 100 years.”

“But you remember times before that don’t you?” Shaun questioned, sitting about a foot away from Patrick on the bedframe. “What if you’re just confused or making something up in your head?”

“I do remember times before that year. I experienced them, I know I did. I also know this wall, it isn’t make-belief. It isn’t confusion.” Patrick explained, clearly worked up over this. Shaun had no idea how earth-shattering this discovery was for Patrick, no idea what it could mean. He didn’t take it as seriously as he would another issue as he didn’t realize to Patrick it was a serious issue. “Fuck. We need to get out of here, find Michael and Stormy, get back to that clock and fix this before things get worse.”

“How is the clock going to help?” Shaun asked, genuinely curious about how Patrick intended to use it. He didn’t understand what a clock in the middle of the woods was capable of. Did it have some magical property to it that Shaun wasn’t aware of? Was it some sort of weapon? “I mean, I don’t even know what it is.”

“It’s… a lot of things. An eldritch artifact. A container, an anchor point in time. My time travel, my teleportation, the clock is my anchor point. It’s like a north pole for supernatural powers. It’s always been the anchor I rely on but now… when I reach out… I can’t find my anchor. I can’t access the majority of my powers.” Patrick paused. He was thinking, pacing around the small room now. “We need to go back in those woods. I need to find Michael, and we need to use the clock to fix everything.”

“What is fixing everything for you?” Shaun asked quietly. He had an idea of what Patrick would likely want. To join back together with Michael, share a body again, keep doing whatever he was up to before. That made Shaun angry again. He didn’t want them sharing a body anymore. Quickly, Shaun’s walls went up again. They had lowered briefly in this interaction. “I’m guessing it’s you keep manipulating Michael around and doing whatever the fuck things like you do.”

“I do want to join back together,” Patrick said, his face falling for a moment. He sighed, shaking his head. “In the meantime, we should just try and find the other two before they wind up corpses.”

Patrick pushed through the door into the hallway by the stairs. He started to descend, stopping when Shaun called his name. “What about Habit? He’s still out there.”

“Don’t you want me to run into him?” Patrick said with a smirk, turning and facing Shaun as he walked down the stairs. “Why do you care if I get caught?”

“I don’t,” Shaun responded, crossing his arms. He proceeded down the stairs behind Patrick, who only laughed. “Come on, let’s hurry up and find Michael and Stormy and then we can figure this out.”

“Yeah. Let’s find them.” Patrick said with a sigh, carefully stepping out of the house. He looked around the back yard for any disturbances before gesturing for Shaun to follow behind him. They moved quietly into the wood, Patrick keeping his eyes peeled in the front while Shaun took up the rear. He paused, a noise in the distance piquing his interest. It was strangely quiet where they were. Were the woods vacant? Had Habit given up? Patrick couldn’t put his trust in that. They had to be quiet, careful.

Through the silence cut the sudden ringing of Shaun’s burner phone from Habit. He pulled it out of his pocket, briefly fumbling before opening it and putting it to his ear.

“Hello?” Shaun asked. The other end of the line had only heavy breathing. “Hello? Who’s there?”

“You sent me on a wild goose chase, Shaun.” Habit said, chuckling darkly. “I don’t take too fucking kindly to being lied to. I thought that was clear.”

“I didn’t lie, they were here but… I wasn’t as discreet as I thought.” Shaun responded. “I…I don’t know where they went, but I’ll find them. I promise. You’ll have them in two days, I promise.”

“I’m putting you on a bit of a leash Shaun, to make sure you don’t disappoint me again.” Habit said. His grin could be practically heard through the phone. It was also clear he was angry. That wasn’t good. “You have until sunrise tomorrow. If you fool me again well… shame on you. I think you know the fucking consequences. Don’t disappoint me.”

Habit hung up. Shaun closed the phone, shaking slightly. He blinked slowly, looking up at Patrick. “If I don’t give you to him... I’m dead at sunrise tomorrow.”

“Fuck.” Patrick said, brow furrowed. He was thinking. He may not like Shaun, but he wasn’t going to hand him over to Habit on a platter and pretend everything would be fine for him and the others from then on out. “We’ll figure something out when we locate the others. Won’t leave you behind.”

“Ok,” Shaun said. He hadn’t expected that. He had expected Patrick to feed him to the wolves, refuse to go down himself. He was surprised Patrick was going to work to plan an alternative with him in any capacity. It was another thing his brain internalized to mull over later. Patrick continued to walk, and Shaun continued to think about various thoughts and ideas he had internalized as they did so. It felt like forever until they finally heard something else.

Nearby, a twig snap was heard, causing the two of them to pause in step. Patrick signalled for Shaun to stay back. He stepped forward, investigating. It was still too dark in the early morning light to make much out, but Patrick could see something moving in the woods. He stepped forward slowly, pausing. His heart climbed into his throat as he tried to find cover again. Habit was right there. 

“Hello?” He called out, Patrick’s shuffling back into hiding a little too loud. Patrick paused again. They sounded too confused to be Habit, which meant it must be Evan unless this was some sort of trick. Patrick backed up more as he looked around. When whoever he was at the moment seemed to be decently distracted Patrick took the opportunity to grab Shaun’s arm, sprinting in the opposite direction. Even if it was Evan, an encounter could lead to Habit coming back out, which could lead to capture and death. That was the last thing Patrick needed right now. Evan heard them sprint off far too late to consider a realistic chase. He paused, stepping back. Habit had left him lost, leagues from anyone he knew. He sighed, pulling out his phone, dialling a number quickly. It went to voicemail. With a sigh, Evan recorded a message after the beep. “Hey Vinny, could you come pick me up? I don’t know where the fuck I am, but there are other people out here somewhere. I’ll find someone and get out of the woods, you call me back when you can and I’ll tell you where I’m at.”

Meanwhile Stormy and Michael had arrived back at the clock. They weren’t exactly sure where to go from here. Shaun and Patrick could, theoretically, be anywhere in the world right now if Habit had caught them. They could already be dead. It was something they didn’t want to think about. While Michael stepped up to the clock inspecting it, Stormy checked around the nearby clearing for any clues towards the whereabouts of the others. The clock felt familiar to Michael in the strangest ways like it was something he had seen countless times before when he had very rarely seen it in person. Time felt warped around the clock like it was passing faster or slower than it should at the same time. The slow ticking of it didn’t help, sounding just irregular enough to set a sense of unease within Michael. He shook his head, walking towards Stormy.

“Have you found anything?” He asked, following beside her as she checked the perimeter of the clearing for the third time in the last five minutes.

“Nothing.” She said, shaking her head with a sigh. She glanced around one last time, scratching her head. “There are no footprints, no dropped items, No trail of any kind. If we go looking for them it’ll be us combing the forest for them, and they might not even be here anymore.”

“This is frustrating,” Michael said with a sigh. He started pacing quietly, thinking. He wondered where they would go, what they could be doing. He paused when out of nowhere, a man came barreling into the clearing. He looked up, tilted his head, seemingly just as confused as Michael and Stormy were. “Hello?”

“Patrick? Or wait- are you the Michael guy?” Evan asked. He had met them before recently, both under the control of Habit, and when that control was returned to him. “I’m Evan. We’ve met before, kind of, I think.”

“Uh, hi. I…” Michael did recognize him. He was Habit’s host, someone who Michael understood was beyond unwilling. “No, I know who you are. Kind of. I mean, I’ve never personally met you but… I mean, Habit is kind of hard to not… encounter.”

“Yeah,” Evan said, swallowing thickly. Stormy looked between the two men, eyebrow raised. Evan stepped towards her, hand outstretched for a handshake. “Hey, nice to meet you, I’m Evan.”

“I’m Stormy.” She responded, shaking his hand. “Have you seen anyone else out here? We’re looking for some friends, we were investigating some stuff out here and got separated.”

“Habit showed up I’m guessing, huh?” Evan said with a heavy sigh. “I think I saw some other people, I know I heard someone, but they ran off. Probably worried I wasn’t me. They went this way but either got put somewhere else or went off course.”

“Do you want to help us find them?” Michael asked. He crossed his arms. The ambient static hum in the clearing was starting to get to him. He sighed, glancing at the clock again. Everything in this forest felt wrong. “I mean, we don’t have any clues and so fat you’re the only one who might’ve seen them.”

“Yeah. I can help.” Evan responded. He didn’t really have much else better to do. “First could you tell me where I am? I’m not entirely sure and I need to give my friend an address to come and get me at.”

“Yeah, you’re in Colorado, I can give you a more exact address when we get out of the woods,” Stormy said with a small sigh. “Either if you come back to the hotel rooms we’re all sharing or if you decide to stay in the abandoned house nearby.”

“Colorado? Fuck.” Evan said with a huff. He pulled out his phone, typing out a quick text message before putting it away. He scratched the back of his neck, looking up again. “Let’s get looking for them.”

Patrick and Shaun had been walking and running for a while now, the two of them beyond tired. At this point, they weren’t very confident that Michael and Stormy were still in these woods. They were tired, both having expended most of their energy trying to avoid what they presumed to be Habit, both of them at their wit’s end. “Shaun if you don’t shut up, I will kill you.”

“I’m just saying, maybe you’re just not trying hard enough to teleport or something. Maybe if you were actually trying you could do it, and we could get out of here.” Shaun grumbled. “I mean, what have you even been actually doing? So far you’ve just made everything end up in a fucking mess.”

“I’m the one who made everything a mess? Do you not remember the fact you brought Habit here? If you hadn’t had done that, if you hadn’t brought up the information you didn’t understand, then this would already be over.” Patrick snapped in response, hand curled tight into a fist. “And I have been trying to teleport. Do you think I just tried once, it didn’t work, and I gave up? Because every opportunity I try to teleport and guess what? It isn’t working. It’s broken. But you wouldn’t understand the idea that someone just can’t do something, no, they’re just being lazy, not trying hard enough. What do you even know about teleportation? Last I checked you weren’t capable of it, so don’t tell me I’m not trying hard enough to do something you have no understanding of.”

“Fuck, most of the time it doesn’t seem like you’re doing shit,” Shaun said, shrugging his shoulders. “I mean, you were just having a nap back there. It didn’t look like time travel. I’ve seen Doctor Who, I know what it’s supposed to be like.”

“Fuck off!” Patrick said, quickly turning around and nearly slapping Shaun. Instead, he pointed his finger, jabbing it into Shaun’s test. “Don’t you dare say I wasn’t doing anything. Do you have any idea what I saw? What I felt? Do you have any idea how horrific it is, how terrifying, to throw yourself back through infinite times? I saw myself die, Michael, Stormy, you, countless times. People I don’t know anymore, people I’ve met in passing, I watched all of them die painful deaths. I watched everyone get tortured, and tormented, and everything countless times iterating over each other. But no, I wasn’t doing shit because it didn’t look like hokey sci-fi bullshit! Just… fuck off, Shaun.”

“I…” Shaun paused, startled at Patrick’s outburst. Before he could respond though he heard something. Patrick heard it too, moving forward towards what sounded like people walking. Quietly Shaun followed, a bit sheepish now. He hadn’t thought what he said was all that bad. He continued to think about it, not noticing when Michael, Stormy, and Evan came into view. Not noticing Michael was moving towards him until he felt the punch to his jaw and fell to the forest floor in a slightly dazed state. Shaun instantly lifted his hand to the point of impact, looking up. Michael was pissed, lips drawn into a tight line, eyebrows furrowed. “What the fuck Michael?”

“Don’t, Shaun. I’m angry at you. You did something beyond shitty and I still don’t understand why.” Michael answered through gritted teeth. Quickly Michael redirected his gaze, pointing at Patrick. “You’re not out of the woods either. You need to explain yourself because if this isn’t all made up it’s a little bit fucked up of you and I’m upset about it.”

“Understood,” Patrick responded curtly. He diverted his attention as Michael, still angry, helped Shaun up off the forest floor. He was entirely fair to be upset. Still, Patrick was deeply uncomfortable in his hot seat position. After all, he was still in the process of second-guessing exactly what he had done. How could he explain when he had no idea? Instead, he stepped over to Stormy and Evan, who were chatting together off to the side whilst Michael angrily spoke with his brother. “How are you two doing?”

“Well, I’m tired, hungry, and I want to kick you, but otherwise I’m pretty good,” Stormy said with a small smirk, only half-serious. While she was confused by Patrick right now, unsure of what exactly had formed a rift between him and Michael, she was angrier herself at Shaun. “You guys didn’t sit still somewhere which made you harder to find.”

“Well, we couldn’t really sit still anywhere considering we still believed Habit to be moving about,” Patrick responded, his arms crossed. He glanced at Evan. “But I’m assuming that isn’t an active issue.”

“No, It’ll all be good. I don’t even mean to stick around long, I just need Vinny to come here and pick me up and hopefully, you guys can do whatever it is you need to do without interruption.” Evan assured with a hand wave. Patrick nodded, thinking.

“Well, we’re already here. We might as well make our way back to the clock.” Patrick said. Suddenly, Michael spoke up.

“We’re going back to the motel first. I’m not going to the clock until you explain yourself, Patrick.” He said, arms crossed.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truth is Stranger Than Fiction

Patrick was in the motel bathroom, the door locked. He sat in the bathtub, quietly thinking. He didn’t have an answer for Michael. He didn’t know what was going on, but deep in his soul, he knew the clock had something to do with it. He was fixated on it, fringing on obsessed. They had to go back, he had to go back. He had to know what was happening, what had happened before. He tried to remind himself of as many cycles as he could, terrified of his slipping memory, terrified of whatever was going on. Nothing of importance came to him aside from vague concepts flashing in his mind like a bulb. Blood, pain, dread. All that he could detect were the worst memories of every cycle, and even then they weren’t truly memories, simply brief thoughts and feelings. He had been stripped of every ability in his arsenal, a fish out of water. A cruel joke from a harlequin universe. He could only count his blessings. He could only hold onto what he did know. He had an origin point. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, but it was certainly fascinating. He needed to find a way to learn more about it, about where he came from, but he couldn’t on his own. His link to the clock, to his anchor point, was gone now. He had to go to it, try and pull power from it, try and push himself back with it. He couldn’t push back since the last time he had, he couldn’t teleport, he couldn’t recall old cycles. He was nothing more than a man. This was something he needed to fix.

He stood up, pausing briefly. He was panicking again, he knew he was, but he couldn’t put this off any longer. He pushed away his anxiety, took a deep breath, and unlocked the door, making his way into the main room of the motel. It was only Michael in there. He looked up at Patrick with a forced smile, clearly still upset, but acting civil. “Hey, Patrick. So… can you explain? All of… all of this?”

“I thought I had an answer,” Patrick said honestly. He had once. He had all the answers once, all the knowledge. Now he knew nothing, and it terrified him more than Habit, more than the Tall Man, more than anything. What he thought was the case hadn’t been real. None of it. Some sort of illusion, pushing him away from the truth. Where had he learned the lie? Where had he internalized it? Was anything he thought he knew true? Was any of it? Or was it figments of a false reality, fracturing in his mind to shield him from what he should’ve been seeking all along? He would be lying if he said he wasn’t in crisis. Instead, he didn’t say anything on the matter. “I don’t have an answer anymore. What I knew- it was wrong. Michael, you knew I always said that I have always existed. I was wrong. Fuck, Michael. I… I don’t know. I don’t know anything. I’m losing everything. The cycle memories, my powers, knowing the difference between the truth and some sort of internalized lie, I don’t have any of it right now.”

“All I know is the clock will fix this. And I don’t mean it will put us back together, that doesn’t matter anymore. That isn’t fixing things anymore.” Patrick said. His hand was balled into a fist, frustration clear on his face from the situation. “The clock will tell me the truth. It will show me what is real. It will make things clear, and it will fix things.”

“What? I… Patrick I don’t understand. Are you ok?” Michael asked, his voice cautious. “Do you need to lay down?”

“Michael, we don’t have time,” Patrick said with a sigh. He paced away a few feet, before turning around. He extended his hand to Michael. “If we leave we leave now, we take care of it now. No more distractions. Are you with me?”

“Patrick, I… I don’t…” Michael didn’t know what to do, what to say. He hesitated, weighing his options. He shook his head, pushing all the thoughts from his mind. He grabbed Patrick’s hand, standing up. “I don’t know what to do anymore, so I’ll just go with old habits and do what you’re doing. But you have to explain as soon as you can. I’m freaked out Patrick, I learned something that, for me, made so much different. I can’t just go and pretend everything is fine. I can’t pretend you didn’t do what you did.”

“I don’t even know if I did it,” Patrick murmured. Michael gave him a brief look, before quickly moving out the door, following behind Patrick. This was it. They were going to make things better. Everything would be clear as the crystal face of the clock. Everything would be fixed. “We can do this.”

It was far too quiet on the way to the clock. Nothing went wrong. No tall man, no Habit, no nothing. It was eerier than if they had been present. Due to the lack of distractions, it took far less time to reach the clock than it usually did. They were there in about half an hour. Patrick shook off a creeping sense of dread. Nothing would go wrong here, he was only paranoid. He watched the clock quietly for a moment, eyes following the swing of the pendulum. His heartbeat thumped with its swing, loud from nerves. The only noise in the clearing. He breathed out, his breath rattling like a box of screws. 

“Are you alright?” Michael asked, picking up on Patrick’s nervous demeanour. He was nervous himself, unsure of what the plan was here, unsure if they were in some sort of danger or not. He hummed quietly to himself. “We can go if you want.”

“We can’t. We need to do this now. “ Patrick said, finally compelling himself to move forward. His feet felt like heavy stones as he stepped forward, his better judgement telling him to turn and leave, but was it truly his better judgement? Or was it another elaborate lie? Patrick furrowed his brow, his expression set with determination. He let go of all the distractions, and he made his way in front of the clock. Now he was unsure again. What did he even need to do here? He lifted his hands instinctively to the face of the clock. That was all he could do now, operate on instincts and first ideas. He brushed the hands with the side of his. Since when had those returned to it? He could’ve sworn they were still missing unless he was incorrect. He brushed off the possible discrepancy, his hands moving as though controlled by another force. Slowly, he began to push back, turning the hands counter-clockwise. It felt useless, like a nothing activity. At least until a noise like a thunder strike and a shake of the earth cause Patrick to fall back. Michael shouted something, but Patrick couldn’t hear, the clearing around them now sounded like a wind tunnel. “What are you-”

Patrick was interrupted by a distinct sound of glass cracking. He turned, eyes wide, watching the clock. He pushed himself back slightly from it. The hands continued to spin counterclockwise of their own accord, a large crack moving down the face of the clock. It stopped, splitting it into two clean halves. For a second, everything seemed to hold still, like a nervous breath. Then hell truly broke loose. The face of the clock suddenly exploded, glass shrapnel moving like bullets in all directions. Patrick lifted his arms to protect his face, shards slicing at the skin of his arms. Michael tried to shout something else, but Patrick was distracted. It was coming out of the clock, as it had in his nightmare. 

It was slow-moving and slug-like and entirely unknowable, the form it preferred to show off the slender, faceless man dangling like a loose finger from it, flickering in and out of view. It was indescribably horrific in its current state, and then it revealed its hands. Long, thin, skeletal arms with thick, heavy hands attached on them, fingers far too long reaching out. Quickly, they shot forward, grabbing Patrick around the ankle. He could barely blink before it snapped backwards, pulling him towards the clock. He flipped onto his stomach, clawing at the dirt, eyes wide, throat feeling like it was closing. This was a mistake. A trick. He was going to die here. His clawing was no use, he gained no traction. As it pulled him into the clock he held his breath, unsure what he would find on the other side. Most likely his own death. He felt terrible. Then he felt nothing at all.

Michael sat in the clearing, mouth hanging open in shock. It had dragged Patrick into the clock, and he had been powerless to stop it. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know if there was anything he could do. For now, he decided he needed to get out of there, and he needed to get out fast. He ran through the woods, thoughts racing. Was Patrick dead? Why had it taken him? What had he been doing with the clock in the first place, turning the hands back? Was it supposed to do something else? In his panic, he hadn’t even realized his own injuries. Finally, after moving as fast as he could through the woods, sprinting back to the motel. He sat down on the bed of his room. That was when he felt a sharp pain in his stomach. He looked down, eyes going wide. He could only say one thing. “Oh my.”

A large piece of glass shrapnel had embedded in his lower abdomen. That couldn’t be good. Michael got to a shaky stand, still in shock enough that the pain only caused him to hiss. Slowly he stepped to the partition door, opening his side and knocking on Stormy’s. She opened it, eyes going wide. “Holy shit, Michael, what the fuck happened?”

“Hospital please.” Was all he said before his own world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this one is shorter, sorry about that! I plan to have the next chapter be longer than usual and felt the place I ended was a nice little cliffhanger while I prepare for the next chapter! I'm glad so many people read it, it's really cool that people care about my little AU story concept thing!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requiem.

Patrick felt like he was drowning, but not in water. A darkness so thick it was tangible surrounded him, moving like a liquid but thick as Molasses. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t scream and could barely move. He could barely think. Just as thick as the darkness around him was a static within his mind, blocking everything else out, forcing him to think as little as possible to desperately try to make the pain stop. It didn’t work, but at least it wasn’t getting worse. 

When it stopped it was almost worse than when it was actively happening. He fell to solid ground, scraping his palms. His head still ached despite the lack of static invading it. He got to a slow shaky stand, looking around. He was back in the clearing, but things were clearly different here. Things felt younger than they should be, new growth in the forest that should be old. The clock ticked away quietly behind him, and he tried to figure out what was going on.

“You wanted knowledge traveller.” was not really spoken, but projected into his mind. Nothing was around him, the clearing empty. He kept glancing around, hoping to catch someone. Then the next projection came. “Bear witness to your tragedy, Gemini. Go forth and find what you seek.”

“Who’s there?” Patrick asked quietly, curling and uncurling his hand. He paused, no answer yet. “I’m not playing games, who’s doing this.”

“Traveller, scholar, fool. You know me more than you know yourself.” was projected into his mind, and then it clicked. The Tall Man was speaking to him. “Go forth Gemini. This is what you wanted.”

He sighed, getting the feeling he’d be left with more questions and no answers no matter what he did. Instead of sticking around and trying to fruitlessly demand answers from something he was unsure was even real. He grumbled, following the nearest path out of the woods. When he reached the edge he was surprised. Everything was incredibly different, incredibly old-fashioned. This was a different time period entirely. The Andersen house was still here, but Patrick doubted any Andersen was. They were likely in some other state or house somewhere. He did spot a young boy staring at him, and decided to approach. “Hello there, could you give me a hand?”

“Who are you?” The boy asked, arms crossed. He had a look on his face that screamed distrust. Fair enough. “What do you need? Why are you in the woods? Why were you down the clock path?”

“Lot’s of questions, I have some answers,” Patrick said with a small chuckle. The boy was not amused. “I’m Patrick, I was hiking and got lost, I was wondering if you could remind me of the date, and give me directions to the nearest town. And I just picked a random path, promise.”

“Alright, it’s November 8th, 1954, the nearest town is 10 kilometres east. Good luck. Bye.” The boy said, turning and finding a very interesting bump on the side of a tree. Patrick took that as his cue to leave. He paused when the boy cleared his throat. “Your eyes are funny. They looked red in the sunlight.”

“You shouldn’t call someone’s features funny,” Patrick said, rolling his eyes. It didn’t bother him, but rudeness was rudeness regardless of skin off the back. “Some people find it rude.”

“Ok.” The boy said with a shrug of his shoulders, his apathy a clear front. He was very intrigued by the stranger from the woods. “You said your name was Patrick?”

“Yes, that’s my name,” Patrick said with a sigh, prepared to answer far too many questions. “Why?”

“That’s my name too. Interesting to meet you, sir.” the young boy said, reaching a hand out for a handshake. Patrick accepted it, his mind racing. He looked over the boy again, thinking it must be a coincidence, but there was no way it could be. This was him. A child version of him. “My brother Michael, he’s my twin, which makes us very cool, he says his name is better but I’ve never met another Michael so clearly he’s wrong.”

Patrick nodded quietly, lost in thought, still in partial disbelief. Not only at the fact he was talking to a past version of himself, but that supposedly he was separate from Michael. Something that, with his own nature, should be impossible. He was never human, he never had his own body, he shouldn’t have been separate at any point. This made no sense. “Say, can you promise me something?”

“Depends what it is.” the young Patrick said with a shrug. “I don’t really know you and my mother said I’m not supposed to talk to strangers and I’m already breaking that rule. But rules are meant to be broken. What do you want?”

“Don’t go to that clock,” Patrick said, his tone dark and serious. 

“But it’s cool, and why should I listen to you anyway-” the young Patrick began to say, Patrick quickly interrupting him.

“Don’t. Don’t go anywhere near it. It’s bad news.” Patrick snapped. He quickly moved on, starting to walk towards the street. “Goodbye.”

The young Patrick watched him leave with a curious expression, moving back to the house once the mysterious stranger was gone. He moved through it, searching for his twin. He had to tell Michael. This was fascinating. He found Michael reading a book, Jekyll and Hyde, one Patrick had never enjoyed. It was horribly boring and horribly strange, but Michael liked to read anything he could find and Patrick would let him do what he wanted, after all, they weren’t the same person. “Michael, something weird just happened.”

“What was it?” Michael asked, shutting his book and tossing it onto his bed. Maybe he wasn’t as interested in it as Patrick had thought. “Was it a dog again?”

“No, it was a guy. He had the same name as me which was neat, but he was really weird. You know the old clock trail?” Patrick asked, sitting down across from his brother. Michael nodded. “He told me not to check out the clock. I’m not sure if he was being funny, or crazy or something, but we both know the clock is a legend.”

“Are you saying we should go check it out?” Michael asked with a grin. Patrick grinned right back. They always found the same train of thought. Patrick nodded excitedly. “Great idea.”

“Come on, let’s go!” Patrick said, quickly making his way out of the room with a spring in his step. Everything had been terribly boring before this, but now it was interesting. There was a goal to check out, and even if they didn’t find anything an adventure would still be fun. Michael scrambled out, grumbling about how Patrick’s head start was unfair, all in good fun. Together they sped out of the house, down the old clock trail.

Meanwhile, Patrick explored his surroundings in the past. Why was he here? What was the point? How was he able to interact with people? His time travel never let him interact, only bear witness. Perhaps it was the clock itself, or the power of the tall man. Patrick was still unsure why it hadn’t simply killed him. It seemed to have wanted to before this point. It was frustrating to not know what was going on, to not have a clear goal. He had a horrible feeling about this. He remembered what the tall man had said. ‘Bear Witness To Your Tragedy.’ That could only mean bad things. Patrick paused, thinking for a moment. What could that actually mean? What was his tragedy? The only one he could think of was his current situation. He was already witnessing that plenty. He sighed, sitting down on a nearby bench, thinking it over. He paused. His tragedy didn’t mean his current self. It meant any iteration of him. It could mean the mysterious him he had briefly interacted with here. Dread set in as Patrick slowly got to a stand, his mind racing. Whatever was going to happen here, as long as he had the power to interact, he was going to stop it.

The young Patrick and Michael trekked through the woods together, chatting about their plans for the day. Neither thought they’d actually find the clock on the trail as local legend claimed, but neither really cared. They were just happy to be hanging out with each other.

Both were surprised when they reached a clearing on the trail, finding a clock in the center of it. Patrick grinned, turning to Michael. “I didn’t think it was real.”

“It shouldn’t be!” Michael responded, approaching the clock quietly. “We’ve been down this trail hundreds of times, we’ve never seen it before. This is crazy.”

“It’s cool!” Patrick responded. He approached it quietly, touching its face. There was a buzz in the air, like electricity. He paused. Something was rustling in the trees. “Michael, stay here for a second.”

Michael nodded, and Patrick quietly walked towards the trees. The rustling continued, and he followed the noise deeper. After a few minutes of walking, he shrugged it off. Probably just some animal. He turned around, walking back to the clearing. He didn’t expect to find what he did. Something was coming out of the clock, spider-like in appearance. It had hands, and it was holding Michael in them by his neck. He was kicking and struggling, grasping at his throat. Whatever this was, it was trying to kill him. Patrick ran forward, but it was too late. With a horrible crunch, the creature from the clock snapped Michael’s next to the side, letting his body drop to the ground. Patrick screamed. This had to be a nightmare, it could only be false. The creature retracted into the clock, and Patrick stared at his brother’s limp body on the ground. He didn’t know what to do. He looked at the clock. That was where that thing had come from. Maybe destroying it would make him wake up.

Patrick had run back to the house where he had interacted with his young self. He looked around, not spotting anything immediately, but after a few seconds, the young Patrick darted out of a shed in the backyard, down the trail, an axe heavy in his hands. This could only lead to bad things.

He followed behind down the trail, arriving to find the young Patrick in front of the clock with the axe, breathing in and out. He hoisted it up, preparing to swing. Patrick tried to stop him, but it was too late. The axe moved in a quick arc towards the face of the clock.

Patrick grabbed the shoulder of the young Patrick as the head of the axe shattered the face of a clock. Time slowed around them, coming to a complete stop. Patrick stumbled back slightly, averting his eyes from the gore on the other end of the clearing. The young Patrick stared at the ground wide-eyed, the axe still in his hand. Suddenly his head snapped up, glancing around quietly with eyes like a wild animal. “Hello?”

“Is anyone there?” He asked, stumbling back. Patrick watched as he continued to grow panicked, and he tried to reach forward, but his hand passed through as though it were made of air. He could no longer interact with these past surroundings. His heart sunk. The young Patrick turned in a circle, looking for any living person. He didn’t find one. He began to breathe quickly and shallow, arms drawn into his chest, the axe falling to the ground. That was when it came, the angler fish, prey prepared. But this was not the end. It knew what it wanted, a more sustainable source of death. Something that lent itself to more of a cycle. It crept in, and the young Patrick, on the verge of tears, faced it with fear in his eyes and sadness weighing heavy on him. “Hello?”

‘Traveller. You have lost and are lost. Trapped in a place of timelessness for your transgressions.’ It projected out. ‘What defence do you present for your destruction?’

“I… It… It killed Michael.” The young Patrick said quietly, hands shaking. “It killed my brother. It…. I had to. I had to destroy it. I… I thought… maybe it was just all a bad dream, and that I’d wake up.”

‘Traveller, Dreamer, Scholar, Gemini. Vengeance leads only to destruction, even if it is to avenge destruction that has already been wrought.’ It said, creeping forward further. Its facade leaned over the young Patrick, supported by the truth behind it. But the young Patrick couldn’t see its truth, eyes still blind. ‘You wanted your brother, Gemini? I can return him to you. But it comes with a price. An eye for an eye, a hand for a hand, a life for a life. An exchange of something equivalent.’

“Whatever you want, if you promise it’ll bring him back.” the young Patrick said, wiping away tears that now streamed down his blood-splattered face. “Whatever it costs.”

‘Don’t jump before you see the shark.’ It scolded, but it was pleased. It had everything right where it wanted it to be. ‘I will tell you the price, then you will decide. I will give you power. You will be able to protect your brother, you will be able to defend against that which you don’t understand. You will become something greater than you currently are. But you will lose something. You will get your brother back, and you will be closer than ever.’

“I don’t care what you do, what you take, what you give me.” The young Patrick said face contorted in sadness. “I just want Michael back.”

‘Very well. You will have what you seek, fool. This will hurt.’ It said. It slithered forward further, arms stretching out wide. Everything seemed to briefly pause before in an instance the young Patrick let out a scream. Instances of him stretched out in a line, flickering like ghosts as he collapsed to the ground, splitting into infinite selves. Just as soon as they had appeared they faded into nothing. The young Patrick was left alone, shivering on the ground. He looked sickly and weak now. He glanced up at the tall man. ‘Relax. That was the worst of it, Gemini. You have been splintered, but that is not enough.’

The young Patrick tried to push himself away, only managing to exhaust himself. He collapsed on the ground, and it easily picked him up. Patrick watched in horror, unsure of what was happening, of what this meant. It was doing something to him, something fundamental. It worked quickly, moving its hands over the young Patrick’s head. Then it pulled back its arm, sharp-tipped fingers pointed like knives. It slammed its hand down fast into the young Patrick’s chest, rending from it. No noises could be heard, anything that could be killed in that clearing was dead, and whatever it had taken it had shoved into the clock. It took the body, pulling it into itself, and just like that the young Patrick was gone as though he had never existed. Then, slowly, it crawled into the clock, time resumed, and it was as though the clock had never been shattered at all. Michael woke up then, uninjured again. But it wasn’t Michael at all.

“Michael? Michael are you here?” Patrick called out, not yet realizing what had transpired. How changed his life would now be. He looked around the clearing before pausing. “I can hear you, Michael, where are you?”

“Come on Michael, this isn’t funny anymore,” Patrick said, his face falling. He was growing antsy, anxious. He could hear his brother, but couldn’t see him anywhere, it was like Michael was speaking directly in Patrick’s head. That was when it clicked. Michael was speaking in Patrick’s head. They were both alive, and as it had promised, closer than ever. Patrick couldn’t comprehend this, how it worked, what it meant, why it happened, how it happened. It seemed impossible to him. He began to panic, internally shutting down. He fell to the ground, curling into a tight ball and shaking his head. When Patrick shut down Michael picked up the slack, control of the body once more. He wasn’t in a much better state, panicked and confused. He pushed back with his fate, scooting until his back was firmly pressed against a tree. Everything was too loud. Patrick was crying, and scared, and so was he. Neither truly understood the ramifications of this. Neither truly understood that it was real, that it was their new reality. Both expected a quick snap to happen any moment now, waking them up from the terrible nightmare. A snap never came. Instead, the two children found themselves disoriented, alone, and too terrified to even move from their position. With that, Patrick felt pulled to the present, and finally, he understood.

He had never been an entity, an infinite being. He had never been a demon, or a spirit or something simply possessing. He had never existed endlessly. He had been a human child, painfully split across time, freedom stolen and destroyed, shoved into someone else body and forced to not only cope himself but help the other half cope. All of it stemming from the simple want for his brother to be ok, and a finger curling in on the monkey’s paw. Patrick had his answers and quietly tried to process them as he looked around the clearing trying to locate Michael. It was silent, the clock completely still. Not even the pendulum swung. Quickly, Patrick determined Michael wasn’t there, so he set out, determined to find him, the nature of what he had just witnessed not truly set in yet. He had a feeling Michael wasn’t in the woods any longer, and he listened to that feeling, trekking out of the woods in the direction of the motel.

He arrived to find the room empty, some blood around it. Patrick’s eyes widened in fear. What had happened here? Where was Michael? He knocked on the door to the other room, hoping to speak to Stormy. She didn’t answer. His worry only grew. He left the room, walking down the hallway to the door of Shaun’s room, just as the other man stepped out from it.

“Shaun, where’s Michael?” Patrick asked, his voice steeped in his stress. Stress from what he had seen. Stress from not knowing where Michael was, not knowing if he was okay or if something had happened. “I went to the room, there was blood and he wasn’t there and Stormy didn’t answer the door.”

“He’s at the hospital, Stormy texted me, Do you know anything about this?” Shaun asked, his tone carrying suspicion.

“No, I didn’t do anything to him. We went to the clock, and something happened to me and I don’t know what happened to Michael.” Patrick answered, too worried to get mad at Shaun over the suspicion. “Let’s just go.”


End file.
